Hollow
by FIXIS26498
Summary: Before Sherlock Holmes, the most famous Consulting Detective lived with Dr. John Watson; he used to live with his Godson, their sister son, Enola Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING AND EVERYTHING FROM SHERLOCK ARE OWN BY STEVEN MOFFAT AND MARK GATISS ALSO BBC! EXCEPT MY OC ALRIGHT; LEAVE ME HERE IN THE CORNER SOBBING OVER… *sat in the corner crying my ass off***

**PS: Possibly going to add the third Holmes Brothers.**

Chapter 1

"A Study in Pink"

I

It's not easy living like Vincentte William Conan Holmes, a 13 year's old Paranoid Schizophrenia who is currently living with his God Father. His uncle who got full custody when his mother died, he was about five years old when it happen, his mother apparently going on a very depressing state. He couldn't remember too much about his father, his mother and of course uncle even the rest of the family told him his father died before he was even born. But not just his father, he couldn't remember too much about his mother either. Just little things, snippets. Things like the smell of her perfume, or flashes of days out. There wasn't one day that he could solidly remember her mother apart from one.

But the day. The day that caused so much pain and misery. The day that death walked up to Enola Holmes and a gun in her hand pointing to her head, looking blankly at the window. It was a pure chance that Vince was tottering down the stairs in his mother's last moments. Wide eyes met wide eyes and tears met tears. He was shocked when she looked at him but still holding the gun.

"Vincentte, be safe be strong" his mother whispered,

She pulled the trigger of the gun, with a loud 'bang' seeing the bullet through her head, looking wildly at his mom falling down in the ground with a pool of blood surrounded her and him. He looked at his mother soulless body on the ground with her pool of blood and the gun still in her hand, standing there, don't know what to do. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry but there's nothing coming out from his mouth, he can't feel himself numb and can't even breathe.

At first, he thought it wasn't real, it's just another episode. One of his illusion that his mother told him, it maybe because he didn't drink the pills the doctor gave him but the blood felt real, everything felt real, but it can't be real. His mother was the kindest woman he ever knows, she has a warm smile and of course she can deal with his episodes, his hallucinations of other people and his mother won't put a gun to her head.

"It's your fault!" a voice yells at him, he flinched.

"Your fault!"

He soon hear the many voices overlapping each other, saying things like it was his fault his mother died, the gun, it was him. He couldn't stop the noises, even if he closes his ears. It was his entire fault.

"It's not your fault" said another voice, a little girl about his age. "It's not"

He gently opens his ears, "It's not" he said hesitantly.

A girl about his height crouches down, with piercing green eyes and light brown hair looking at him, smiling to him.

"Of course not silly, she pulled the trigger on her own will and you can't do anything about it" she said. "Now it's alright, I'm going to be here, always"

"You promise" said Vince.

"Yes, I promise"

"What's your name?!" he asked.

"I'm Isabelle" she said.

0o0

Eight years on, the wound of his mother's death never healed fully. Even as now he was passed on to his mother older brothers Mycroft and Sherlock whom had been heavily featured even before 'the day' the pain lingered in the background. But as all those who have lost something close know you just have to learn to be happy again.

"Vincentte William Conan Holmes, get down here!" Sherlock's voice booming from the living room.

"Vince he's calling you again," said Isabelle while looking inside the box Vince was carrying.

Vince gritted his teeth and put down the box he was carrying. "Can you ever stop calling my full name and start to call me Vince! I'm sure a mind such as yours can compute"

"Seriously, why when he mad about what I do, he always said my full name" he said to Isabelle as he opened the box.

She only smiled to him and looked to him, "Vincentte is a great name, and it's a unique name not like Fred"

"I don't even know what its mean," he grumbled and Isabelle smiling amuse. "It's just like a baddie name from some movie!"

"Fine Vince, get down here!"

Casting a longing look at his unfinished worked on his own room, he reluctantly pulled himself to his feet and meandered down the stairs where Sherlock was glaring at him, his hands behind his back.

"Do you have something you want to confess?" Sherlock asked expectantly.

He put on that innocent dumb face, he always put when he didn't want to. "What are you talking about?"

It was the raised eyebrow from the man that made him crack. He always looked so intimidating with that looked.

"Did it work?" he asked excitedly.

Sherlock opened his hand that was behind his back, his hands were bright pink. He looked at Vince who was smiling mischievously looking at his bright pink hand making Vince more giggling at his hand, it was obviously worked really well. Sherlock quickly hid the still pink tinged hands in his pockets and gave Vince a venomous glare.

"Like a treat" he said sarcastically.

"One of my traps worked again! This time it gets you good huh," he grinned maliciously. "It's very easy to erase that Sherlock's I'm sure you already know"

"Potassium chloride is my only hope of getting it off" he said going to the kitchen.

"Anyway, are we doing anything today or I can finish unpacking?"

Sherlock nodded his consent but his eyes had focused on his mobile phone in his hand. "On second thoughts, Vince, fancy heading to the morgue" he asked him.

By the time Vince put down the mug and walked back into the living room, Sherlock had already flown out of the door, his coat billowing majestically behind him. Isabelle was behind him, in the couch sitting there while Vince getting his dark blue coat and his phone.

"Oh, the morgue" Isabelle said sarcastically. "Very exciting indeed"

"Looking at the dead bodies and watching them getting dissected"

"You're not coming huh?" he said while getting his coat.

"Not really, Vince but I'll be waiting here for you at home alright" she said holding his face with one of her hand. "Just of course be careful"

"You know how your uncle act"

He shrugged away and went his way downstairs catching up with Sherlock.

Vince has always been a hit growing up at Scotland Yard. Well, when everyone said hit most actually wanted to hit him in the face but their boss Lestrade would never let that happen and they knew it plus they knew that if anyone would even think to laid a finger on him, not only the wrath of an extremely angry Sherlock Holmes awaited but the full force of the British Government, also known as Mycroft Holmes. Both Holmes brothers were extremely protective of their nephew and of course for Sherlock his God Son since in the both of their occupations, they made plenty of enemies that would surely use Vince to get them. Ever since they held him as an infant, they had vowed to never let that happen.

All in all, Vince was a good kid. He did his homework on time, well if it's not that boring or maybe he didn't want to get any lecture from Mycroft, kept his room tidy, most of the time and took turns with the washing up, usually after a game of chess and whoever lose will do the washing also it would usually Sherlock, the only problem was, like most teenagers, sometimes he just needed to rebel and being a Holmes, meant that he never did things by halves.

But his Schizophrenia liked to act up and every time he wanted to drink his medication, it would make his head spin and one time put him in the hospital. Sometimes his hallucinations and paranoid delusions brought on by his schizophrenia occasionally allow him to made the connections about Sherlock's case. Another reason why Sherlock let him off medication. One other reason was because of Isabelle, she kept her sane and according to him, now Isabelle is the same age of him and it was a perfect hallucination because she's the only one who still kept him alive until now.

He was brilliant on running away or maybe stayed away from his Uncles for a while and when he ran away, he would hop through his bedroom window and onto the shed below before following the wall along a dropping down into the alleyway. From there, he could laze around and sprint and do whatever the hell he liked without being watched by dear Uncle Mycroft and his bugs and Sherlock with his blooming intellect, security camera weren't a problem at all, he usually already cracked the system so it won't even show him in the monitor but his uncle knew better than anyone of course. Isabelle always said he would get caught and be grounded but he only ignored her and keep running, sometimes they would only ran through the park or maybe just going to the city for some shopping and came back.

At the end, he would be sitting in the book store he worked for over the time, a bookstore just down the street. An old bookstore which is nice and calm also has a lot of book he could read or maybe buy. The owner Cataleya Torres didn't mind at all because Vince pretty much very nice and polite boy indeed of course a little eccentric and much like the Holmes boys character. Of course with the fact, she grew up with Sherlock and the Holmes boys usually played there or maybe read with her and her father loved with the boys enthusiastic, she lived with her daughter Cassandra and she was the only friend or the only person who still can keep up with Vince eccentric personality and she was Vince childhood friend. Usually after a while, Cataleya would call Mycroft that Vince was there a minute ago or maybe already heading to the flat or maybe Sherlock will pick him up forcefully.

Boy, Vince had been grounded over incidents like that, more times than he cared to remember. Mostly, it was two days or so after he had been found that he dreaded the most. The first day, were just ecstatic to have him home and would do practically anything for him. He knew that by the second day, he would have to hide the chocolates he had bought because you can be assured that he wouldn't be allowed sweets for a month. The only thing that kept him coming home was because of Isabelle, she always had been keeping himself sane in a lot of time also taking care of him too.

Mycroft had the house under maximum surveillance of course. But growing up around those two was like locking someone in a cage or in Mycroft case, looking a crazy psychopath in a cage then handing them the key and walking in. It was suffocating at times but Vince wouldn't have opted for a different lifestyle. Besides, normal family was far too boring for him anyway.

0o0

Vince ran down the stairs of their new flat at Baker Street, taking two at a time. Scampering out of the flat, he just managed to get in the taxi in time.

"What took you?" he snapped but the small twitch of his lips took the edge off the sting.

"Oh well sorry that I was trying to keep up with Mr. Melodramatic over here just because he's going to the morgue. I will leave you to die of boredom in the taxi next time"

There was a moment of silence.

"You know I wouldn't actually die of-"

"Yes I know Sherlock!"

Sherlock chuckled to himself and ruffled Vince slightly messy dark raven hair, knowing it would annoy him. He scowled and pouted while putting his earpiece and tiding his hair.

"You're having another one, aren't you?" he quipped.

Vince sighed and nodded. He leant back against the seats of the taxi as they headed to Bart's.

0o0

Vince skipped through the halls of the morgue, watching as a family grieved over the loss of yet another loved one. He couldn't help but feel that perhaps his Uncle Sherlock and Mycroft were right: Caring is not an advantage. But they had always assured him that he was an exception. He couldn't help but think how many exceptions you can have before the rule vanishes completely. The people that he cared the most were Sherlock, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Lestrade and Anthea. How many spaces did he have left?

Vince was startled to find that sometime through his worries; he had reached Molly's room and found Sherlock whipping a body senseless with a riding crop. Vince folding his hand looked at him, his uncle whipping a body with a riding crop. What a childhood. Vince went to stand over to Molly who was flinching every whack of the crop.

"Hello, Vince" she said a little shaken. "How are you?"

Vince shrugged.

"So, bad day was it?" Molly asked flustered.

Vince looked at Molly, "Pretty great"

"So how's school?" Molly asked casually.

"Fine" he answered. "You know, the usual a very boring place"

"Yes fine indeed" a voice that comes from a guy wearing a lab coat with the board at the top of the table. "Oh, don't look at me like that, I'm a real doctor you know, the name Dr. Moray"

"Did you know that a light yeas is the distance light travels in a year = 9.4605284 x 1015 meters" he rattled off from his memory.

He usually does this so he could get distracted and not paying attention to one of his hallucinations besides from Isabelle, his brain always made for him. He hated it and it drives him mad.

Molly smiled sadly, seeing right through Vince plan. "I wish you would tell me about this hallucinations, you've been experiencing it at school, than you should take your medication back Vince"

Vince sighed, "Nothing, just teachers thing that, they are so much clever than you and whenever you get something right, everyone just turns and looks at you and of course taking my medication back would only distract me a lot"

"I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Vince, would you get my phone, I left it in the reception" Sherlock said.

"I thought, you purposely left your phone behind, at the table" he said looking at him.

Sherlock frowned in confusion until his face cleared, "Oh, yes of course"

Vince rolled his eyes and dragged a blue stool over where Sherlock was working. He pulled his phone and started fiddling with it, a swift knock on the door interrupted their work at a good bit, annoying his immensely but silently promised to behave at the look that Sherlock sent him from across the table. When had he moved?

The door swung open to reveal a large man with suit and glasses and another with a checked shirt and a walking stick. The same guy said to him while holding a board like he really was examining something or maybe Molly new assistant.

"Interesting, a soldier, the way he stand," he said. "An injured leg, but not really worse at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic"

"Partly psychosomatic" he whispered to Sherlock and he nodded.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he mouthed at him.

He frowned as he looked at the man, not catching on to the deduction. Going on a hit and miss and pretending he understood, he mouthed back.

"Tenner or Iraq?"

He nodded.

"Bit different from my day," said the soldier.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? I left mine somewhere or other," Sherlock asked, still peering into the microscope.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike countered.

"What's right with it?" Vince muttered, still immersed in his phone.

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched upwards at his niece's remark.

"I prefer to text"

Mike sighed, "Sorry, it is in my coat"

"Like hell, you don't even have a coat," Vince murmured quietly again.

Sherlock swallowed his chuckle.

"Eer, here… use mine," the soldier said, fishing around in his pocket for the device.

Vince perked up from his phone; he certainly hadn't been expecting that. By the look on his Uncle's face, neither had he.

"Oh, thank you"

"Thus us an old friend of mine, John Watson" Mike introduced.

Vince gave a small two fingered wave. He smiled back. Sherlock flipped down the keypad on the mobile.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asked.

Vince leaned further forwards in his seat. Was there a tenner in the bag?

"Sorry?" John asked in confusion.

"Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq? Choose carefully, I have a tenner riding on this," Sherlock said, never taking his eyes of the phone that he was texting goodness knows who on.

Mike smiled knowingly at John.

"Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you…"

"Of course, it was really easy actually; he is an army doctor silly. It was very obvious, isn't Vince" said the guy. "You actually could deduce it, very…very easy, come on Vince I know you want to do it"

"Damn it can you stop?!" Vince swore.

"Watch your language or it will be another tenner and I don't care if it's one of your hallucinations fault" Sherlock warned, holding out his hand, "Cough up"

"For God's sake," he grumbled as he slammed a five pound not into his hand. "I'm going to be broke soon"

Sherlock grinned smugly as he turns to Molly who had entered with two mugs.

"Ah Molly, coffee, thank you"

She placed a mug of hot chocolate in front of Vince and gave him a toothy grin.

"What happen to the lipstick?" Sherlock asked as he sipped his coffee.

"It wasn't working for me," she mumbled with a blush.

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth is too small now"

Vince glared at Sherlock and shot Molly and apologetic smile. He shook his head signaling that it was fine but Vince could see the disappointment that had settled behind his eyes as she left the room. It's weird that Sherlock couldn't know Molly really into him, maybe he know all along but don't care about Molly's feeling. Well that's Sherlock for you; Vince must have guessed his uncle acted like that, because caring is not an advantage.

"How do you feel about the violin?"

Vince head snapped to Sherlock. Was he-? Well, they had a spare room and another company would really ease the stress between them of course a sane company would be really great full to help them, especially to help Sherlock.

"I'm sorry, what?" John asked.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking, sometimes I don't talk for days on end and I have a Paranoid Schizophrenia godson that is annoying as hell but still pretty loveable apparently. Would that bother you? Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other"

He was! Finally another sane flat mate that Vince felt he could actually grow to like.

John still looked incredulous.

"You told them about me?" he asked Mike.

"Not a word," Mike promised.

"Then who said anything about flat mates?"

Sherlock sighed, "I told Mike this morning that we must be difficult people to find a flat mate. Now here he is, just after lunch with an old friend clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't a difficult leap"

Vince smiled at John, "He does this, a lot of time"

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asked him in confusion.

Sherlock was saved from his deductions by changing the subject.

"Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it." He started to stride past John. "We'll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o'clock," he continued. "Sorry, we've got to dash; I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary, come along Vince"

Riding crop? John frowned, but thought best not to ask.

"Is that it then?" John called.

"Is that what?" Sherlock asked.

"We've only just met and we're going to go and look at a flat?"

"Problem?" Sherlock questioned, unfazed by John's words.

Incredulous, John looked towards Mike for help; he received none. His friend continued to smile smugly, watching the strange curly haired man standing by the door.

"We don't even know a thing about each other. I don't know where we are meeting. I don't even know your names" John said, throwing his arms up to emphasize his point.

Vince and Sherlock shared a glance and Vince nodded at him, signaling for him to take this one. Bloody good job he went for it, he still a little woozy after more than one of his hallucinations showed up suddenly and in a minute gone, also there's his shift at night because one of the staff wasn't in.

Sherlock smirked.

"I know you're an army doctor and you have been invalided home from Afghanistan. You have got a brother worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him, possibly because he is an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly I am afraid. That's enough to be going on with don't you think?"

Vince bit his lip to stop himself from giggling while following his uncle. Turning around, Sherlock's walked towards the door and opened it, striding out. He then leaned back into the room.

"The name Sherlock's Holmes, this is my godson and also my nephew Vince Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street" he told John. "Afternoon."

The door swung shut as Sherlock Holmes left the room; John looked at Mike in disbelief, lost for words, and Mike smiled back.

"Yeah, he's always like that."

Vince outright laughed as he did the sexy wink that always made Molly swoon. Sometimes he even wondered he did it for purpose.

"You git" he laughed. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Sherlock grinned proudly and flicked his coat collar. They rode back to Baker Street in a taxi and Vince went to Mrs. Hudson.

"Hey Mrs. H," Vince greeted brightly.

"Oh, Vince my dear, what a lovely surprise!" she said as she made her way to the boy and gave him a loving hug. "Bad day?"

"Yeah, pretty bad" he said looking at her.

Vince breathed in the calming scent of Lavender on the woman and relaxed. Mrs. Hudson was like the classic grandmother. As he proceed back up the stairs to his flat, his phone buzzed in his pocket, looking at the screen it written, 'Private Number' and he knew what's that mean.

**'Hello my dear little nephew how was your trip to the morgue today?'**

**MH**

Vince practically rolled his eyes, his uncle Mycroft always called him 'little' like he was still the same five years old boy who didn't understand anything at all. But sometimes he felt, it was actually alright for being a little boy for once.

**'Mycroft, I'm not a little boy anymore! And stop spying at me, I'm not a criminal. Anyway, day's fine. How was yours'**

**VH**

**'Oh utterly dismal I am afraid. Some Dictator has no respect'**

**MH**

**'And, what did you do about that?'**

**VH**

**'I am teeming with it'**

**MH**

**'Mycroft, it is getting to the point that I can hear you sarcasm through the text. I believe that is a serious cause for alarm'**

**VH**

**'Your wit is as sharp as ever'**

**MH**

**'Thank you for the compliment Uncle Mycroft. Good night'**

**VH **

**'Good night, don't forget to sleep well and drink your medication if you feel unwell.'**

**MH**

Vince blew out another exasperated breath, pocketed his phone as he walked into the stair of the living room of 221B while Isabelle coming at him. She looked worried and usually it was the time he needed to confirm on her how was he feeling lately because for some reason she always knew something's wrong. Or maybe because he pay a visit at Mrs. Hudson.

"Well hello there, Isabelle!" he exclaimed trying to play dumb.

"Don't 'hello Isabelle' me" she said putting her one hand to her hip. "Are you alright?!"

"Yes of course I'm fine" Vince said smiling at her. "I'm just need some rest"

"Okay, just please don't push yourself too much" Isabelle said looking at him with sympathetic look.

"Alright mom" said Vince sarcastically.

Isabelle giving her deadly glare, he only smiled. Sherlock was in his mind palace and Vince knowing better than to interrupt him, instead he gone straight to his room and closed the door. He brushes his teeth; put his pajamas on and getting ready to sleep.

"You're going to bed already?" asked Isabelle.

"Yes, I'm feeling tired today" he said. "A great rest will ease the headache"

"Weird, I never saw you going to bed at 9 AM, usually it will take you longer and of course a lot of lecture from me to finally gave up and climb to your bed" said Isabelle now lay down beside him. "Well good night love"

"Good night Isabelle, sleep tight" he said closing his eyes.

He slipped into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, hoping that his nightmares wouldn't plague him that night, the nightmares of the worst day he ever experienced. The day when his mother pulled the trigger.

_"What kinds of mother kill herself with a gun in front of her son?!"_

That was what people would always say. But Vince wouldn't response with any of their comment, it wasn't her fault and it wasn't his fault and Isabelle told him that a thousand time as he grow up. She wasn't feeling well and also Mycroft and Sherlock didn't know about it until it was too late, it wasn't anyone fault, it wasn't. Sometimes he thought about if they had known about his mother condition, Mycroft would do anything about her and Sherlock would talk into her with some common sense, if they had know, she would be alive and tucking him to sleep.

One thing that made him very curious about was, neither Mycroft nor Sherlock would tell him what caused him mother's desperation. Whenever he brought it up when he was little, they would just distract him by playing board game and the most intense one, chess game with Sherlock and Mycroft or maybe just eating ice cream and deduce it. Parenting at its finest.

To be honest, he had given up trying. He couldn't understand at first but Isabelle always said it was too much painful for them remembering his mother, at first Vince only said,

"It doesn't make sense"

But until he looks of pain on his Uncle's faces whenever he mentioned his mother. Thankfully his mind was very much tired and blissfully blank as he drifted off that night.

* * *

><p><strong>That's probably my first Sherlock Fanfiction with of course a little bit of my OC twist, at first i did think about adding Vince as Sherlock's son or maybe Mrs. Hudson Grandson or maybe a genius kid, that move to Mrs. Hudson house because he was a trouble kid also, but then when i read about the Holmes Family and about Enola Holmes, i thought about her, she had a little boy and Sherlock was the legal guardian, there's some reason why Enola didn't make Mycroft the legal guardian. So Vincentte happen, and Vince was actually my big brother name but he died and i never actually know him, i was a little baby when he died, so i thought about him and his name was quite unique and gooffy also, so there's when Vincentte William Conan Holmes born...<strong>

**Thanks for reading!**

**Please Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"A Study in Pink"

II

The next morning Vince and Sherlock supposed to meet up with John Watson their new flat mate. It's an unfortunate case when Vince never woke up until 10 AM on the weekend, especially on Sunday. He could just force him to wake up and get dressed but it was his schedule and no one would even mess with it, not even Sherlock. If he either missed his bed time and wake up time every day, he would be really grumpy and annoying as hell, what Sherlock pronounce.

He was standing outside of Baker Street after getting his godson breakfast, the usual, sandwich and hot chocolate milk because it was the only food that would work after his nightmare and terror. A few minutes later, a taxi pulled up and showed his new flat mate John Watson emerged with his stick.

221B Baker Street. John limped down the street, leaning against his cane as he gazed at the brass numbers thoughtfully, and a taxi pulled up on the curb when he went to knock on the front door.

"Hello," Sherlock called, leaning in through the taxi window and handing the driver money, thanking him.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes."

"Sherlock, please."

John shook his hand, turning to look back at 221B. "Well this is a prime spot. Must be expensive."

Sherlock shrugged, "Well Mrs. Hudson, the landlady-she's given us a special deal. I think she has a serious soft spot on Vince. Can think why"

"Ah, yes your godson, of course" said John. "Where is he? Still asleep on Sunday Morning"

"Yes, actually, I just came down here to take his breakfast" Sherlock said.

"Oh, of course" said John. "Guess Mrs. Hudson living with Mr. Hudson here?"

"No, we were able to help out with some problem with her husband," Sherlock pointed out. "A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out"

"Sorry, you stopped her husband from being executed?" John asked incredulously.

"Oh no, I ensured it" he grin as he knocked the door.

John barely had time to comprehend this before the front door opened and Mrs. Hudson, a small elderly woman with a wide smile, greeted Sherlock cheerfully, embracing him. Sherlock hugged her briefly. "Sherlock, hello," she greeted him as Sherlock turned and walked into her arms.

"Mrs. Hudson, Dr. John Watson" Sherlock introduced him as he pointed him out in turn to the elderly woman.

"Hello," Mrs. Hudson greeted him with a warm smile.

"How do?" John greeted her as he shook her hand.

"Come in" Mrs. Hudson said as she gestured for him to enter, shooing us inside of the cold London air.

"Thank you," John told her as he stepped inside of 221B.

"Oh, Sherlock, Vince woke up just now and not really feeling well. He was searching for you said something about his breakfast" said Mrs. Hudson.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson"

"Shall we?" Sherlock asked him as he gestured for him to enter before him.

After the necessary introductions between Mrs. Hudson and John, Sherlock trotted up the steps to the first floor, stopping to wait for John, who struggled to keep up. The both of them made their way up stairs to the flat, John slightly slower with his limp. Once John had reached the top step, Sherlock opened the door and revealed the living room. It was nice. Sweeping his eyes over the furniture and boxes that held various possessions, John nodded to himself. The room was actually quite nice, only of course the possessions and boxes scattered around the room in a sort of organized chaos.

"Well this could be very nice," John stated.

"Yes. Yes I think so. My thoughts precisely. So we went straight ahead and moved in"

At the same time as John said, "Soon as we get this rubbish cleaned up"

There was an awkward pause as John realized that the 'rubbish' were actually Sherlock's possessions. He didn't have long to be embarrassed; when he spotted saw Vince wearing his pajamas and rubbing his eyes sleepily while coming out from the kitchen.

"Jeez, Sherlock, you could've cleared the mess up a bit," he said with a grin.

He was almost exactly like Sherlock. John was taken aback by how similar Sherlock and Vince looked. Vince had Sherlock's hair color, dark raven, the pale skin and the cheekbones. They were striking blue and green just like Sherlock's. They both looked the same, and were both tall and thin. There were only a few slight differences; Vince's hair wasn't curly like Sherlock's but still a little bit messy. Vince was thin, Sherlock was also very thin but Sherlock had grown into his body, where as it looked like Vince hadn't yet. Though Vince wasn't that tall because he stills thirteen years old and a growing boy indeed, he had the unhealthy skinny appearance of someone who had grown a lot in a short period of time.

"Hi."

"Hello," John replied, looking at Sherlock, who was making a poor attempt at straightening up the flat.

"You're awake" Sherlock stated as he going to the kitchen getting the plate.

"Uh-Huh" Vince said as he rubbed his eyes. "I don't know why but I just want to stay in the bed all day"

"But Isabelle said I need to wake up and move my bum or not she'll get really angry and force me out from the bed"

"Yes, you have to move Vince" said Isabelle sitting next to him. "You're not going to sleep all day, it's not healthy for you"

"I know," he said to Isabelle.

"Vincentte, remember John Watson from the morgue. John, you remember my godson"

"Call me Vince," Vince said with a shrug. "Your bedroom is the second one upstairs. I hope you don't mind but I kinda stole the bigger one."

"I like him" said Isabelle. "He will take care of you, his a doctor"

"War Doctor Isabelle" Vince said looking at her. "And I don't need any treatment whatsoever"

John looked at him with a confused look, because there's no one besides Vince and there's only Vince alone sitting waiting for his breakfast. But John remembered about Sherlock said his godson has a Paranoid Schizophrenia; it may be one of his episodes or one of his hallucination.

"Here you are" Sherlock said put the plate down in front of him.

"Thank you" said Vince as he lunge to his food.

He noticed beside it, a little pill. Probably his medication, so Mrs. Hudson did tell Sherlock he wasn't feeling okay. But he won't take it anymore, it made him couldn't think straight and also hurting Isabelle, she did always said she was alright with it as long as he will get better but that's not exactly the point. He didn't want to hurt her, or made her disappear; she's the only one he got to made him sane and also happy.

"I won't drink that" Vince said pointing at the pill.

"You will and you have to" said Sherlock. "For some reason it's gotten worse, isn't it Vince?"

"You know those pills, always gets me distracted" Vince started to raise his voice.

"We had a deal about it and you will drink it, even if I have to choke it down your bloody throat"

"So this is all…," John remarked uncomfortably as he took in the clutter around the room.

"Well, obviously I can, um straighten things up for a bit" Sherlock said as he walked across the room and made a half-hearted attempt to tidy up a little.

"That's a skull," John pointed out, trying to ease the tension that had settled in the room.

The skull stood proudly on the top of the masterpiece.

"Friends of Sherlock"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, friend of mine, when I say 'friend'…,"

Mrs. Hudson shuffled into the room. She picked up a cup and a saucer that Sherlock had left on a table while the man in question took off his greatcoat and scarf and hung them up behind the door.

"What do you think Doctor Watson? There is another room upstairs, if you will need two bedrooms"

John looked extremely confused,

"Of course we will need three," he started.

"Oh don't worry; there are all sorts around here. Mrs. Turner next door's got married ones" she reassured him.

"Sherlock! The mess you've made!" Mrs. Hudson berated him as Vince helped him to try and tidy things up a little in the kitchen; well it was actually Isabelle idea.

John walked over to one of the two arm chairs in the room and plumped the cushion on the chair before dropping heavily down into it. He looked across the room at Sherlock who is still tidying up a little though now it was more for show than an actual attempt and clearing anything up.

"I looked you up on the internet last night," John said suddenly.

"Anything interesting?" Sherlock asked him abandoning his attempt and cleaning as he turned around.

"Found your website, **_The Science of Deduction_**"

"Here we go" Vince said as he drink he chocolate milk.

"What did you think?" Sherlock asked him smiling proudly.

Vince stops drinking his beverage and placed it back at the table. He walked over to the other empty arm chair and sat himself down on it, crossing his legs at the knee. He folded both of his hands on top of his knees before looking between both men to watch their conversation with one eyebrow raised in interest.

"You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb"

"Yes and I can read your military career in your face and your left, and your brother's drinking habits in your mobile phone," Sherlock responded snappishly.

"How?" John asked him incredulously.

Sherlock smiled and turned away from him.

"How about these suicides then? Would have thought this would be right up your streets, you two," Mrs. Hudson told Vince and Sherlock, "Three exactly the same"

Vince saw Sherlock gazing out of the window and walked up next to him.

"Four" he said. "There has been a fourth and there is something different this time"

"A fourth?" Mrs. Hudson asked sounding completely confused.

"Ohh," Isabelle drawled good-naturedly as she walked over to also look out the window. "Look who came crawling back"

Vince gazes outside the window with a smirk on his face, "Lestrade, here, came crawling back for your help I see"

Sherlock smirked in amusement.

As DI Lestrade entered the room, the first thing he saw was the Consultant Detective, and the only Consultant Detective folded his arms and of course the knowing face of the child he had watched grows up.

"Something you wanted Lestrade?" asked Vince innocently, making Sherlock smirk.

"Alright, alright, I was wrong, we need your uncle…again" he added glumly.

He laughed at his put out faces, John's confused one and Sherlock's impatient one.

"Where?" Sherlock demanded.

"Brixton, Lauriston Garden," Lestrade replied.

"What's new about this one, you wouldn't have come to him otherwise" Vince asked.

Lestrade looked down at him.

"You know how they never leave notes? This one did"

Sherlock's eyes lit up with excitement and he could barely hold back the smile that threatened to show on his features. Vince smiled when his uncle done this, this mean he will leave him alone and forget about everything they all fight about.

"Will you come?"

"Who's on forensics?" Sherlock asked.

"Anderson"

Vince growled in the back of his throat, his nose wrinkled in disdain.

"He doesn't work well with me." Sherlock scowled.

"Well, he won't be your assistant," Lestrade began.

"I need an assistant" Sherlock almost shouted.

"What about Vince?"

"He and I are basically the same mind, we need someone to point out the obvious sometimes" Sherlock argued.

Vince cleared his throat awkwardly. His uncle really didn't know how different he was from him, much more different. Besides, he won't come with him, he got something else to do, not going to examine some dead bodies on the street or maybe solved a murder. He is not a detective for crying out loud.

"Will you come?" Lestrade asked.

"Not in a police car, we will be right behind" Sherlock confirmed.

"Thank you," Lestrade said, shooting a smile at Vince and turning to leave.

As soon as the door slammed shut down stairs Sherlock leaped into the air and clenched his fists triumphantly before twirling around the room happily.

"Brilliant! Yes!" Sherlock exclaimed as he picked up his scarf and coat and pulled them on as he headed into the kitchen. "Four serial suicides and now a note, oh it's Christmas"

Vince smiled at his uncle, "You're going out?"

Sherlock didn't answer and instead just going out to the door. Vince smiled amused; at least he didn't have to blabbering about taking his medication anymore.

"Someone's happy" Isabelle said sitting in the couch beside him. "You're not coming?"

"Nope, I'm not going out, remember" he said wondering inside the house. "I have a lot of stuff to do and do not wish to be bothered"

John shoot a weird look on Vince but took it off quickly before looking at his new flat mate, acting very happy about a murder, a serial murder of course, it's not really normal to get excited about a murder like it was Christmas morning.

"Mrs. Hudson, I'll be late. Vince not coming and might need some food," Sherlock called from the kitchen.

"I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper," she reminded Sherlock, as he left the flat.

"Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up!" Sherlock called from the flat before he appeared at the top of the stairs and bolted down but then thought about something and bolted back up. "Vince, need to talk to you, and it's not about the case"

"Oh, joy" he said sarcastically.

"Good luck" called Isabelle from the chair.

Vince joined Sherlock at the stairs, far away from John hearing ranged; it was never going to be good if it had to be far away from anyone to eavesdrop.

"So what is it you want to talk dear uncle" said Vince.

"What do you think?" Sherlock asked. "He's a doctor and also an army so it would be great flat mate for us, well especially for you"

"I don't need a doctor," said Vince. "I'm fine, and I'm still doing fine"

"Yes, I could trust you if you haven't-"

"Damn my leg!" John shouts suddenly from the living room and they both turned to look back of the stairs.

"Army Doctor, loyal. He misses the danger. I noticed it yesterday. There's a tremor in his left hand but not all the time. There's also the fact that his limp is psychosomatic. Why?" he asked Sherlock.

"I need an assistant. Besides he needs to get out. It will cure that bloody limp of his," Sherlock pointed out and Vince nodded in agreement.

"I think he'll be perfect," Vince told Sherlock as they both smiled mischievously at each other. "Especially with you always running into danger of all sort"

"We'll cure him of that infernal limp together. Deal?" he asked him while raising one of his own eyebrows in challenge.

"Deal," Vince told him as they shook hands.

They turned around and trotted back upstairs together side by side. It seems if Sherlock and Vince had come to an agreement of mutual respects of each other.

"You're a doctor. In fact you're an Army Doctor" Sherlock said as soon as they entered the living room again.

"Yes," John said upon taking notice of them.

"Any good?" Vince asked John with a raised eyebrow.

"Very good," John told him as he met Vince challenge.

"Seen a lot of injuries, then, violent deaths?" Sherlock asked him.

"Mmm, yes"

"Bit of trouble too, I bet" he said as Sherlock caught his eyes and they shared a look for a brief moment. They had him already.

"Of course yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much," John said quietly as if he was trying to convince himself.

Vince knew he couldn't resist though. He missed the danger of the chase far too much to back down; it was even good that Sherlock got the job he will need. It also get Sherlock safe enough to come back home in one piece.

"Wanna see some more?" Sherlock asked him as Vince tried to hide his smile.

"Oh God, yes," John told them fervently without a second's thought.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I'll skip the tea. Off out," John called out as he hurried down the stairs.

"The three of you?" Mrs. Hudson asked in confusion as she stood at the bottom of the stairs.

"No, actually Vince not coming with us, so-" John stated before got cut off by Sherlock.

"Impossible suicides? Four of them? There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on!" Sherlock told her as he took her by the shoulders and kissed her noisily on the cheek.

"Look at you, all happy. It's not decent," Mrs. Hudson said unable to hide her smile as she looked over Sherlock's expression.

"Who cares about decent? The game Mrs. Hudson is on!" Sherlock called in the door way before walked out.

0o0

"Okay, you've got questions," Sherlock stated as he lowered his phone.

"Yeah, where are we going?" John asked.

"Crime scene. Next?"

"Who are you? What do you?"

"What do you think?" Sherlock answered a question with a question. Highly annoying.

John hesitated, "I would say private detective," he said slowly.

"But?"

"But the police don't go to private detective"

"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world I invented the job" Sherlock said proudly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult with me" he explained.

"The police don't consult amateurs!" John almost laughed.

Sherlock looked at him.

"When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said 'Afghanistan or Iraq?' You looked surprised"

"Yes, how did you know?" John asked the question that had been playing on his mind.

"I didn't know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. But your conversation as you entered the room, you said trained at Bart's so Army Doctor-obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan above the wrist. You've been abroad but not sunbathing. Your limp's really bad when you walk but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic. Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan- Afghanistan or Iraq" Sherlock explained at a hundred miles an hour.

"You said I had a therapist" John said quietly.

"You've got a psychosomatic limp- of course you've got a therapist. Then there's your younger brother. Your phone. It's expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 Player but you're looking for a flatshare- you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift then. Scratches. Not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting to me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. Next a bits easy. You know it already"

"The engraving" John answered.

"Harry Watson, clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, this is a young man gadget. Could be a cousin but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses say it's a romantic attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently- this model only six months old. Marriage in trouble- six months on he's just given it away. If she'd left him, he would have kept it. People do- sentiment. But no, he wanted to get rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you, which say he wants you to stay in touch. You're looking for a cheap accommodation, but you're not going to your brother for help, that says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you don't like his dinking" Sherlock continued.

"How can you possibly know about the drinking?" John asked disbelievingly.

"Shot in the dark. Good one though. Power connection, tiny little scuffs marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are shaking. You never see those marks on a sober's man phone, never see a drunk's without them. There you go, you see, you were right" Sherlock told John.

"I was right," John frowned. "Right about what?"

"The police don't consult amateurs" Sherlock concluded.

"That…was amazing," John complemented in blank shock.

Sherlock turned to him in surprise.

"Do you think so?"

"Of course it was. It was extraordinary, it was quite extraordinary"

"That's not what people normally say"

"What do people normally say?"

"Piss off" Sherlock said, smiling briefly at John before turning back to look out of the window.

"Something you need to ask, you better ask now"

"It's actually…, it's nothing important really" John said as he looked at the cab window.

"It's about Vince, my nephew" Sherlock pointed out. "If you must know, he didn't put up with his medication, I can't force him to take it and it won't be pretty too"

"But isn't it, dangerous he roaming around the room without his medication, especially a Schizophrenic person" said John going on his doctor mode.

"It's his choice, not exactly mine" Sherlock said gazing the window again, just thinking about what's exactly John had said to him.

0o0

Vince now preparing to start his day in the bookstore, The Alchemist book store. It's a funny name really, and also creative. Cataleya uncle named it because he loved the way of Alchemist worked on creating stuff or discovering them, it was also the most old looking book store with the smell of old book and also coffee. He put his dark blue coat, wearing only dark jeans, white cream converse shoes and of course a red t-shirt.

"Mrs. H" called Vince. "I'm going out, starting my shift"

"Won't be home until my shift finish, the house empty and I might need food when I got home"

"Alright my boy" Mrs. Hudson said as she smiled at him. "Just be careful"

"And don't forget your coat, it's really cold out"

"I will Mrs. H" he said. She was really the typical grandma.

The bookstore wasn't really far, you can even walk from the flat sometimes you could take the bus there but Vince decided to walked there, it was more simple and of course saving a lot of money for him. Isabelle always come with him, she loved the smell of coffee like Vince.

"It's really cold out," said Isabelle. "You sure you've got your coat"

"Yes," Vince said rolling his eyes. "It's fine, it's not that cold and I'm used to this cold remember"

"Besides, it wasn't that bad"

"You're shivering Vince" Isabelle said.

"I'm not," Vince said slightly offended. "I'm alright, and it's not that cold anyway"

"You're really stubborn Vince, it's not my fault if you caught a cold tomorrow all I'm going to do is telling you I told you so"

"Alright mom" he said sarcastically as he zip his coat.

Finally arrived, there are a lot of people inside, feeling slightly uncomfortable he still moved forward to his own station but he only loved the aromas. Over the year, Vince had grown used to the smells of the different exotic tea and coffee the shop had sold. He could tell his Earl Grey from his Darjeeling and knew the difference between Javanese and Kenyan Coffee. He enjoyed the smell of coffee, though he hated the bitter taste of it. But he loved tea. He had been gradually sampling all the teas, particularly the herbal teas with their fruity tastes and unusual aromas.

Cataleya had made it into a bookstore café since she needs more money to keep this store alive of course with the skill of Cataleya and of course some other worker, her bookstore would be full of people reading and maybe buying books from her store. Vince jobs were to re-stock or maybe making the books in order and tidy up the scattered books on the floor. Sometimes if he was in a bad mood or if he was acting up, he would read a book and Cataleya won't mind also Cass will also join him reading some books with him. Cass was the only person that Vince grew up with and always over protective of him, considering his age is younger than Cass. Cass's now fifteen years old and he's thirteen only two years gap between them but Cass still over protective of him.

When they were kids, Cass and Vince would read every book in this store and also Vince loved the smell of coffee and tea, also play around the bookstore. Sometimes they even tried to identify every coffee bean in the store and every tea leave also any other spice, solving mystery in the store like, where's the mysterious stock book gone.

"Vincentte!" called a voice he was familiar with, he turn around looking at the now angry Cass.

"Well, hello there Cassandra" Vince said. "How do you do?"

"Don't call me that, you know how I hate being called on my first name!"

"Well you started it!" he said.

Cataleya looked at them with a grin and stop the fight before one of them kills each other, "Alright…alright kids behave, or I won't give you any candy"

"Mom!"

"Aunt Cataleya!"

"Hello Vince, how are you dear?" Cataleya said as she gave Vince a hug.

"Fine" he said feeling weird as he looked Isabelle smirking behind him, she knew he hated people to hug him but of course couldn't resist.

"Wonderful, now there's a new stock of book we need to display, in the Classic Novel Section" said Cataleya.

"Alright"

Cataleya has a very dark hair that always being tied into a tidy bun and piercing green eyes that shine like the diamond, he even thought he wear a contact lenses but it was like an emerald, she was in her late thirty or forty but she always looked so stunning. She was actually a wonderful woman, very smart indeed also she was actually one of his mom best friends. Sherlock even had a crush on her but she turned him down for Cass father, whom died in a car accident when Cass was nine. She is very protective of Vince and of course Cass, Vince was like a son to him and will do anything to protect him. Especially after Enola died, she took a motherly role for Vince, either if he liked it or not.

Vince going to his worked while Cataleya watching him closely, and making a report every day, every time if his condition got any worse or maybe better. Only Cataleya and Mycroft knew about all of this. But one thing for sure, everyday Vince grew up, he more looked like his mother, his act, his attitude and of course his eyes and his mother warm smile. But there's something about Vince, have the same attitude with his father, a little bit psychopathic boring thinking of him.

"Oh, Enola," she muttered. "If only you're with us now"

"You could see Vince growing very fast and looked just like you"

* * *

><p><strong>And that's a wrap!<br>Please review and get a free hugs from your favorite War Doctor and maybe the Consulting Detective he want to of course, his a bloody psychopath...**

**whoops...**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Study in Pink

III

The cab arrived at Lauriston Gardens and they with hurry got out of the cab. Sherlock paid the cabbie before they walked towards the police tape that was stung across the road. The crime scene was in a rather out of the way part of London and in an abandoned building no less. Same MO as the rest of the suicides which was either a good thing or a bad thing. When they began walking to the crime scene, Sherlock brought the conversation back up.

"Did I get anything wrong?" Sherlock asked.

"Harry and me don't get on, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago and they're getting divorce and Harry is a drinker" John told him.

"Spot on, then. I didn't expect to be right about everything," Sherlock smiling proudly to himself.

"And Harry's short for Harriet," John finished.

"Harry's your sister," he deadpanned.

"Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" John asked him as they continued onwards.

"Sister!" Sherlock said furiously through gritted teeth.

Sherlock was in his own little world that he went to as he complained to himself about his misinterpretation. All thoughts were cut off when a rather annoying voice sounded.

"No, seriously, what am I doing here?" John asked him again.

"There's always something," Sherlock said exasperatedly as he started walking again.

"Hello Freak" Donovan greeted Sherlock before she took notice of John.

"We're here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade" Sherlock said simply.

"Why?" Donovan asked us sounding annoyed.

"I was invited"

"Why?" she said again, a little more anger and annoyance in her voice.

"I think he wants me to take a look"

"Well you know what I think, don't you?"

"Always Sally" Sherlock inhaled a little bit as he lifted the caution tape, letting himself in. "I know you didn't make it home last night"

"I don't…," she said angrily before she seemed to take notice of John for the first time. "Er, who's this?"

"Colleague of ours, Doctor Watson," Sherlock told her as he turned to John. "Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan, old friend" he introduced him, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"A colleague? How do you two get a colleague?! How do you two even know each other?" Donovan asked us as she turned to John. "What, did they follow you home?"

"Would it be better if I just waited and…" John started, but before he could continue Sherlock cut him off.

"No," Sherlock told him as he lifted the police tape up for him, ignoring Donovan's question about how we knew each other.

John ducked under it joining us on the other side with hesitation following his new flat mate that talked him into going to a crime scene. Donovan lifted her radio to her mouth as soon as John had joined us.

"The freaks are here. Bringing them in," She spoke into her radio as she led them towards the house.

Sherlock looked around the area and at the ground with a critical eye was we approached the house. Unfortunately, due to the Yarders' incompetence, most of the evidence outside had already been tampered with. Sherlock seemed to be having some problem if his expression was any indication. As we reached the pavement a man dressed in a blue coverall came walking out of the house.

"Ah, Anderson. Here we are again," Sherlock said as Anderson looked at him with distaste.

"It's a crime scene. I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?" Anderson snapped at him.

"Quite clear. And is your wife away for long?" Sherlock asked him with a smug smile on his face.

"Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that," Anderson scoffed with a snort.

"Actually Anderson, your deodorant told us that," he told the man while rolling my eyes

"My deodorant?" Anderson asked him looking like he was going to burst a blood vessel in his forehead.

"It's for men,"

"Well, of course it's for men! I'm wearing it!" Anderson argued back glaring at him murderously.

"So is Sergeant Donovan," Sherlock remarked as Anderson looked round at Donovan in trepidation.

Sherlock sniffed pointedly as he smirked smugly. "Ooh and I think it just vaporized. "May we go in?" Sherlock asked him as John shifted a little uncomfortably behind us.

"Now look, whatever you're trying to imply …,"Anderson said as he turned back and pointed at them angrily.

"I'm 're not implying anything," Sherlock told him pointedly as he strode past Donovan towards the front door.

Sherlock walked to the door but before them both stopped by the door to make a few final parting remarks.

"I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over," Sherlock told him. "And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees,"

Anderson and Donovan share a look before they stared back at us in horror. Sherlock smiled smugly before the both of them turned and entered the house together without another word. John stood looking between the four of them completely baffled by what was going on. He would learn soon enough if he was going to be working with Sherlock. John followed him into the house after a second and Sherlock lead the way to a room on the ground floor where Lestrade was pulling on a coverall similar to the one Anderson had been wearing.

"You need to wear one of these," Sherlock told John

"Who's this?" Lestrade asked me as he pointed over at John.

"He's with me," Sherlock answered him as he started to pull off his black leather gloves.

In the meantime John took his jacket off and picked up one of the coveralls. He looked at Sherlock who was picking up a pair of gloves.

"Aren't you two gonna put one on?" He asked us in reference to the coveralls.

Sherlock looked at him sternly and John shook his head as if to say,

"So where are we?" Sherlock asked Lestrade.

"Upstairs," Lestrade told us he picked up his own pair of gloves. He led us up a circular staircase as Sherlock put on his latex gloves. "I can give you two minutes," He told us as he looked at me pointedly.

"May need longer," Sherlock told him casually.

"Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We're running them now for contact details. Hasn't been here long. Some kids found her," Lestrade told us as he led us into a room that was two stories above the ground floor.

The room was empty of furniture except for a rocking horse which was in the far corner. Emergency portable lighting had been set up around the room. A woman's body was lying face down on the bare floorboards in the middle of the room. She was wearing a bright pink overcoat and high-heeled pink shoes. Her hands were lying flat on the floor on either side of her head. Sherlock walked a few steps into the room before stopped and focused their attention on the corpse in front of him.

The three of them stood there silently for several long seconds before Sherlock suddenly looked across the room to Lestrade.

"Shut up," He told him rudely.

"I didn't say anything," Lestrade told him sounding startled.

"You were thinking. It's annoying," Sherlock told him before he stepped forward.

The first thing he noticed when started looking at the body was that the word "Rache" had been scratched into the floorboards by the woman's left hand. His eyes trailed over to the woman's hands inspecting them more closely. Her fingernail on her index and middle finger were broken and ragged at the ends and her nail polish chipped. The rest of her fingernails were still in immaculate condition though. Her index finger was resting at the bottom of the 'e' so he assumed that she had still been trying to carve into the floor when she died. She had used her left hand to scratch the word into the floor boards. Now the word she had carved was Rache. Rache in German meant revenge. No, that wasn't it. The woman didn't have the physical characteristics associated with those who were German. So, what other words could it have been? A name was the most likely decision.

Rachel that fit perfectly.

He ran his gloved hand over along the back of the victim's coat, and then lifted his hand again to look at his fingers. The back of her coat was wet; she had been out in the rain recently. Any smart woman would carry one thing on her if she knew it was going to rain. He pulled a white folding umbrella out of the woman's pocket and ran his fingers along the folds of the material.

Her umbrella was dry. So the wind had been too strong to use her umbrella. He put it back into her pocket as Sherlock moved up to the collar of the woman's coat and ran his fingers underneath it. He held his fingers up for inspection, Wet, so she had turned her collar up against the rain.

He held his hand out just under my nose holding a small magnifier. He clicked it open before using it to closely examine the woman's delicate looking gold bracelet on her left wrist. It had been cleaned and recently. The gold earring on her left ear and the gold chain around her neck had likewise been treated with the same care. The rings on her left ring finger told an entirely different sort of story. Her wedding wing and her engagement ring were both dirty. She was married and judging from the state of her rings unhappily so. Her rings were at least ten or so years old so unhappily married for a rather long time. He held the ring up into the light and inspected the inside of the band. It was clean. Sliding the ring back onto the woman's finger as he reached a final conclusion about the ring.

It was regularly removed. Now a woman in a rather unhappy marriage who regularly removed her ring indicated that she was probably an adulterer. One man wouldn't do though, not for this woman. No, she was a serial adulterer. She had a small case with her too; she was only staying overnight before she would be returning home. She was careful, probably told her husband she was going somewhere for work. He placed her as being a journalist given the state of her nails and the alarming shade of pink she seemed partial to.

"Got anything?" Lestrade asked him

"Not much," Sherlock said nonchalantly as he stood and took his gloves off in perfect synchronization. "Practically nothing," he added as Sherlock took out his mobile phone from his pocket and started typing.

Anderson who was leaning casually against the doorframe. "She's German.'Rache': it's German for 'revenge'. She could be trying to tell us something …," Anderson began as he strode over to the door quickly and began to close it in his face.

"Yes, thank you for your input" he told the man sarcastically before he slammed the door shut in his face.

John and Lestrade were both looking at him with identical expressions of shock at my rude behavior on their faces. Sherlock on the other hand was failing miserably at trying to hide his smirk.

"So she's German?" Lestrade asked us slowly, hesitating in his answer.

"She's not German. She is from out of town though. She was only intending to stay in London for one night…," he told Lestrade before making another message with a smirk.

"…before returning home to Cardiff," Sherlock finished for me as he pocketed his phone. "So far, so obvious,"

"Sorry…obvious?" John asked us sounding completely baffled.

"What about the message, though?" Lestrade asked me clearly trying to distract me.

"Doctor Watson, what do you think?" Sherlock asked John, completely ignoring Lestrade.

"Of the message?" John asked us quizzically

"No, John, of the body. What do you think about it? You're a medical man," he answered him.

"Doctor Watson," Sherlock asked John gesturing to the body and asking for him to give his medical opinion once more.

Lestrade wasn't going to stop him.

"Hm?" John asked as he looked up from the body to Sherlock and then turning his head towards Lestrade, silently seeking his permission.

"Oh, do as they say. Help yourself," Lestrade told John a little tetchily before he turned and opened the door, stepping outside. "Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes," He told

"Well?" Sherlock asked John sounding mildly impatient.

"What am I doing here?" John asked him softly.

"You're helping us make a point," he told John with a smirk

"I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent," John shot back

"Yeah, well, this is more fun," Sherlock told him

"Fun? There's a woman lying dead," John said through gritted teeth.

"That's a perfectly sound analysis John, brilliant in fact. The woman obviously is dead. Ten out of ten for observation. We were hoping you'd go a little deeper though," he told John as Lestrade walked back into the room and stood just inside the doorway.

John turned to them,

"Asphyxiation… probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can't smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure, possibly drugs."

Sherlock stared back at him intensely,

"You know what it was, you've read the papers." John sighed,

"Well, she's one of the suicides. The fourth…?" Sherlock took over, his mind brimming with information he couldn't wait to convey any longer,

"Victim is in her late 30s. Professional person, going by her clothes. Media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night from the size of her suitcase."

Lestrade looked confused, "Suitcase?"

"Yes, suitcase. She has been married at least ten years but not happily. She has had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married. Her wedding ring, ten years old at least. The rest of her jewellery has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside, so it is regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It is not for work, look at her nails. She doesn't work with her hands, so what or who does she remove her rings for? Not one lover, she'd never sustain the fiction of being single for that long, so more likely a string of them. Simple."

"That's brilliant," John breathed in fascination,

"Cardiff?" Lestrade asked.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Sherlock asked them sounding bored.

"It's not obvious to me," John piped up.

"Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring," He told Lestrade and John before turning back to the body.

Lestrade and John rolled their eyes.

"Her coat: it's slightly damp. She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She's turned it up against the wind. She's got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it's dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind… too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can't have travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn't dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?"

He deduced as he got his phone from his pocket and showed Lestrade and John the webpage he was looking at earlier, displaying today's weather for the southern part of Britain. He popped open his phone onto the met office and read out-

"Cardiff."

"Why do you keep saying suitcase?" Lestrade questioned him.

"Yeah, where is it?"

"She must have had a phone or an organizer. Find out who Rachel is," Sherlock said as he spun around the room in a circle looking for the case

"She was writing 'Rachel'?" Lestrade asked sounding confused.

"No, she was leaving an angry note in German!" he scoffed.

"How'd you know she had a suitcase?" Lestrade asked

"Tiny splash marks on her right heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. You don't get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious- could only be an overnight bag so we know she was staying overnight. Now where is it?" Sherlock looked expectantly at Lestrade.

"There wasn't a case."

Silence. Sherlock looked up from the body.

"Say that again."

"There wasn't a case with her."

Without any word of warning, Sherlock pounced to his feet, knocking over John in the process, and bounded down the stairs of the house, shouting like a madman.

"Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?"

"There isn't a case here Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted impatiently as he helped a disgruntled

"It's murder, all of them. I don't know how, but they're not suicides, they're killings… serial killings," Sherlock answered him.

"We've got ourselves a serial killer. I love those. There's always something to look forward to," Sherlock remarked

"Why are you saying that?" Lestrade asked him

"Her case! Come on Greg, think! Use the brain I know you have. Where is her case? Did she eat it? I highly doubt that she did. Someone else was here and they took her case," he called back up to Lestrade

"She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there," John offered

"No, she never got to the hotel," Sherlock told him as he looked back up the stairs. "Look at her hair. She color coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She'd never have left any hotel with her hair still looking…," Sherlock explained before he stopped talking as he made a realization.

"Oh," He said, his eyes widening as his face lit up.

"Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for them to make a mistake," Sherlock said smiling cheerfully to himself.

"We can't just wait!" Lestrade called down the stairs sounding exasperated.

"Oh, we're done waiting!" Sherlock told him "Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff, find out who Jennifer Wilson's family and friends were. Find Rachel!" Sherlock yelled back up to him

"Of course, yeah…but what mistake?!" Lestrade called after him

"PINK!" he yelled up to Lestrade.

0o0

"Vince, please be careful" said Isabelle, worrying when Vince lifting the box and going up through the railing stairs.

"I will," he said slightly annoyed. "What's with you lately, being over protective and stuff, it's pretty annoying really"

"No is not" she said crossing her arm.

"Yes it is," he said grabbing the stair rails. "Now let me do my job"

Leaving the ear piece stuck on his ears so he couldn't even hear Isabelle complaining, he checked the book list in his hand, and then looked at the shelves again._ The Fairy Tale of the Grimm Brothers,_ red leather binding. Now where was he going to find that?

"Huh, I remember this book" he said plugging out the ear buds from one of his ear to his shoulder.

Vince stood in the center of the bookstore's cellar and breathed deeply.

"What's that?" asked Isabelle.

"The book, there's not even a scratch of it" said Vince looking at it. "The Grimm Fairytale, my mom used to read it for me, of course after she died, Sherlock would read it to me"

"Why don't you just buy it?" she asked.

"We have a book like this too, in the flat," he said checking the book again before putting it on the shelf.

He looked around the shop and it was a real mess on the classic section, Cataleya would instantly sent children to read story books or maybe just teenager hanging out here, texting their friends, drinking coffee, messing up with the book here because no one would go to the Classic Book section. That was the stupidest idea they ever had. He actually like the bookstore, although the Classic book section with tiny cramped cellar always smelled dry and musty, the air heavy with the odors of parched curling papers, mingled with the richer aroma of old leather bindings and dusty cobwebs. But he loved the smell, other than the coffee and the tea, he always thought it was warm and comforting like the scents of cinnamon and spices that associated with Christmas.

The stores was like a second home for him, he would run away from his real home and will go here. Cataleya knew about this and wasn't even complaining about anything, she loved when Vince came here to visit, bought books or maybe done his shift but sometimes she hated the fact he ran away because he was bored, she did threat Sherlock once and it was involving a lot of staring contest, speaking contest and of course sarcastic, insulting contest that resulting of Sherlock wasn't winning anything at all, making him frustrated and her win.

"What do you think?" Isabelle suddenly asked.

"About what?" said Vince as he put another book to the shelf.

"About John, John Watson, your uncle new flat mate?" Isabelle said pointing out the obvious.

"What about him?" asked Vince.

"What do you think about your uncle and his new flat mate?" asked Isabelle. "First time he's here and your uncle already take him to a crime scene, what do you think John would do after that?"

"I think he'll do any sane people do" said Vince taking another book.

"Which is?"

"Find another flat mate of course, after all this year he always thought another flat mate would be great and also keep us safe, which is weird because I can take care of myself just fine and paying the rent wasn't exactly the problem" Vince said.

"You're jealous if your uncle more paying attention to his flat mates than you?" asked Isabelle.

"No, is not that, I'm worry that now John following Sherlock and he both get themselves in danger" said Vince. "You know how Sherlock act, the good news is, he was a soldier"

"Army Doctor Vince" said Isabelle. "I think it's great, he is a doctor and will persuade your uncle to make you drink your medication, it's for the best also,"

"I won't drink that stupid pills and no one can ever make me" said Vince.

"Not even me" said Isabelle.

"No, not even you," Vince said taking another book while thinking about what he said.

Suddenly his phone ring, he looked it was actually a text, a text from Sherlock. He knew, whenever Sherlock texted him, it's usually about a case or maybe he just need to get a book from the store or just saying hi to Cataleya. Of course in this case, it was a case, Sherlock's sent him a lot of picture from the crime scene. The rest, was his job to found out about any bloody secret the body that laying in the middle of the room had before she died.

**'New Challenge'**

**SH**

"Who is it?" asked Isabelle.

"The usual, Sherlock" he said looking to the picture. "It's the new case, the suicide case"

"He wants you to deduce it, why can't he do it on his own?" Isabelle asked.

"Because he wanted to test me about this one," Vince said with a smirk.

In the picture, which Sherlock sent him, lay a middle aged woman clad in an alarming shade of pink. Vince zoomed in the picture looking to the body. The woman isn't from London. Or maybe just got back from London. Her coat collar is still wet. It hasn't been raining here for a few days. Vince smiled and that concluded his deduction, it was really easy, well almost too easy.

"You're done?" Isabelle asked. "Well that was pretty quick"

"Yes, it was pretty easy" Vince said. "Anyway, need to text Sherlock about it first"

"Of course it is pretty easy, isn't it" said another voice. "But do you know how she died?

It was the same guy from the morgue. Great, new problem already.

**'New Challenge'**

**SH**

**'The woman, isn't from London. Or maybe just got back from London. Her coat collar is still wet'**

**VH**

**'Other than that?'**

**SH**

**'Victim in her late 30s. Professional person, going by her clothes. Media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night from the size of her suitcase'**

**VH**

**'Still not interested Vince, you could do better than that'**

**SH**

Vince grumbled and looked at the picture again, his deduction skill was just like both of his uncle and pretty great of course for a boy his age and living with Sherlock Holmes, it was great.

"You want better, ok" he said typing furiously in the phone.

"Vince, don't break your phone" Isabelle said warning him.

**'The first thing was that the word "Rache" had been scratched into the floorboards by the woman's left hand. Her fingernail on her index and middle finger were broken and ragged at the ends and her nail polish chipped. The rest of her fingernails were still in immaculate condition though. Her index finger was resting at the bottom of the 'e' so he assumed that she had still been trying to carve into the floor when she died. She had used her left hand to scratch the word into the floor boards.'**

**VH**

**'Yes, what's that concluded Vincentte'**

**SH**

**'Now the word she had carved was Rache. Rache in German meant revenge. No, that wasn't it. The woman didn't have the physical characteristics associated with those who were German. So, what other words could it have been? A name was the most likely decision. **

**Rachel that fit perfectly.'**

**VH **

**'How'd you know about the relation about her wet coat?'**

**SH**

**The back of her coat was wet; she had been out in the rain recently. Any smart woman would carry one thing on her if she knew it was going to rain. From the picture you send me her umbrella was dry. So the wind had been too strong to use her umbrella.**'

**VH**

**'What about her marriage, the ring that I send you'**

**SH**

**'It had been cleaned and recently. The gold earring on her left ear and the gold chain around her neck had likewise been treated with the same care. The rings on her left ring finger told an entirely different sort of story. Her wedding wing and her engagement ring were both dirty. She was married and judging from the state of her rings unhappily so. Her rings were at least ten or so years old so unhappily married for a rather long time. It was regularly removed. Now a woman in a rather unhappy marriage who regularly removed her ring indicated that she was probably an adulterer.'**

**VH**

**'I'm almost impressed'**

**SH**

**'One man wouldn't do though, not for this woman. No, she was a serial adulterer. She had a small case with her too; she was only staying overnight before she would be returning home. She was careful, probably told her husband she was going somewhere for work. He placed her as being a journalist given the state of her nails and the alarming shade of pink she seemed partial to.'**

**VH**

**'Final question Vincentte, How did she die?'**

**SH**

He looked at the text, great he need to be there, if he wanted to answer that question, he got no clue at all, especially with the woman laying like that, he couldn't even tell, if she had bruises or not.

"That's pretty easy actually" said the guy from the morgue. One of his hallucinations.

"Which is?" he said.

"Asphyxiation, it could have been a seizure, possibly drug, someone force her to drank it and made it looked like an accident." He said.

**'Asphyxiation… probably. Passed out, chocked on her own vomit'**

**VH**

**'Very good, see you back at the flat'**

**SH**

He still confuses, there's one thing missing from the crime scene, she was travelling sure, but she has been married at least ten years but not happily. She was travelling here because she has had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married. Suddenly he realized, her suitcase, where is her suitcase, she can't travel without her suitcase. He texted Sherlock back.

**'Where's the suitcase? A woman like her must has her suitcase with her'**

**VH**

**'How'd you know about the suitcase?'**

**SH**

**'Oh, don't play dumb with me my dear uncle,** **tiny splash marks on her right heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. You don't get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious- could only be an overnight bag so we know she was staying overnight' **

**Now where is it?'**

**VH**

**'I'm still searching for it'**

**SH**

He knew it, it must be the pink suitcase she got, of course it's pink, everything what she wearing was all pink, which is pretty weird and also kind of like a target for the serial killer of course. It was must really obvious.

**'Remember our deal; meet me in the flat after your shift'**

**SH**

With that Vince smiled at the text, finally his uncle taking some action about that.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you...thank you... by the way, i was just checking the internet, especially tumblr... i found something interesting about Avengers 2: Age of Ultron and it was awesome... <strong>

**But my friend wasn't really excited and was confuse who is Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch. They all thought the movie will be suck... i thought the moview will be awesome! Can't wait to know what actually happen with Cap Shield... whops..**

**Spoilers!**

**Please REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Study in Pink

IV

Vince finishing his last books before his shift was over, it was almost closing time for the bookstore and usually before that happen, he would read a couple of great books and sometimes bought it. He looked at his watch and of course his phone, not a text, which is a great sign but then a few minutes later Sherlock's text him.

**'Baker Street. Come at once if convenient' **

**SH**

He ignored it completely, he knew it wasn't his time to finish his books and usually nothing big happen to him, sometimes maybe he need to borrow his phone, which he had another phone and it was weird thinking about borrowing his phone.

**'If inconvenient, come anyways'**

**SH**

**'Still busy, don't even bother'**

**VH**

A few second past until another text came in.

**'Could be dangerous'**

**SH**

"Seriously, what a drama queen" he said sighing.

"Who's that?" Cass asked him while tidying the place up.

"The usual drama queen" said Vince with a smirk.

"Sherlock, let me guess, he wants you to come home quickly and saying he might already burn the flat" Cass said. "Yes, definitely a drama queen"

"I know," Vince said with a grin. "Maybe a little bit longer if there's any news about him burning up the flat then I'll come home"

"Of course" said Cass. "But you better get back, he might seriously thinking about burning up the flat"

"Maybe," said Vince but thinking a little bit, it's Sherlock they talked about. "I should get going, don't want the flat caught on fire"

"Now you're talking" Cass said. "See you tomorrow at school"

"Yeah sure," Vince said until he remembered something.

"Hey Cass!"

"Yeah," said Cass looking at him.

"Well, there's actually a book that I wanted," he said hesitantly. "So I was wondering if you could keep it for me until I get it, look I'll pay you first than I'll get the book"

Cass looked at him, not every day Vince bought a book secretly, usually it was when Sherlock or Mycroft birthday or maybe when his late mother birthday, when he was a little boy of course, Vince would secretly bought it so his mother could read it for him.

"Okay, what's this about?" asked Cass. "You're not that often buying book secretly and it's not even near Sherlock's birthday or either Mycroft's birthday, if you even celebrate it"

"It's just, some book that I really want to read," Vince said as he looked Cass with a hesitant looked before he continue. "Just myself, you know for research"

"Alright, I see what I can do" Cass said before walking.

"Hey! I forgot!" he said.

"What?!" asked Cassandra.

"Don't tell Aunt Cataleya," he said. "It's just going to be our little secret"

"This is the first" Isabelle said looking at the both of them.

"What?" she said. "I won't lie to my mom, are you crazy!"

"She's like a walking lie detector, you know what will she do to me if I lie just the slightest lie even if it's a white lie!"

"She's right you know, Cataleya would skin you too if she know about you're the reason she lied Vince" Isabelle said but of course Vince ignoring him completely.

"Oh, please…" Vince said giving her the puppy eyes that will always fool Cass.

"Oh, no, there's no way I'm…" Cass said but she can't resist that eyes. That green-blue-gold eyes or whatever the color is because it will turn with his own mood, heterocromia reaction which is unique.

"Fine!"

"You win!"

"Yes, thank you so much and I owe you one!" he said while going outside.

"I'll text you!" Cass said as she looked at him running outside.

"Okay!"

0o0

It was some time later when John and Alex turned up, his cane tapping behind him, and both quietly chatting. It was kind of weird the both of them showed up at the same time and John was still wearing his cane so his Uncle didn't do anything first.

"What are you doing?" he asked Sherlock as they walked into the living room.

"Nicotine patch. Helps me think," Sherlock answered him calmly as he lifted his right hand to show the three round patches that he had stuck to his arm. "Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work"

"It's good news for breathing," John commented as he walked further into the room seeming to get over the initial shock of Sherlock.

"Oh, breathing. Breathing's boring," Sherlock told him dismissively.

"Is that three patches?" Vince asked him sounding surprised.

Sherlock pressed his hands together in the prayer position under his chin again before answering John. "It's a three-patch problem," He told him simply as he closed his eyes again.

"Well?" John asked him. There was a long silent pause. "You asked me to come. I'm assuming it's important," He continued.

Sherlock didn't respond again, but after a couple of seconds his eyes snapped open. He didn't bother turning his head to look at John as he answered him. Vince giggled a little, clearly John didn't know about his Uncle work, it was never going to be any emergency of course, and he only made it sound dramatic.

"Oh, yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?"

Sherlock asked him and Vince snorted.

"My phone?" John asked him exasperatedly.

Vince giggled at his expression. His eyes snapped towards him and he fixed me with a glare which only made his giggle even worse. Couldn't believe his uncle tricked him while only meeting him only a few hours ago.

"Don't wanna use mine. Always a chance that the number will be recognized. It's on the website," Sherlock explained to him offhandedly as he stayed in his praying pose unaffected by Vince giggle fest.

"Mrs. Hudson's got a phone," John pointed out, starting to sound irritated as he turned back to Sherlock. "Vince got a phone also"

"Nope, he's not allowed anywhere near my phone," Vince said. "Last time he used mine, I got death threats from a serial killer for a fortnight." he said it in such a matter of fact way that John was regretting returning to 221B.

"Yeah, she's downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn't hear." Sherlock said pointing out the obvious. "And Vince won't even give his phone to me"

"Nope, he's not allowed anywhere near my phone," Vince said. "Last time he used mine, I got death threats from a serial killer for a fortnight."

"I was the other side of London," John told him starting to sound angry.

"There was no hurry," Sherlock told him mildly.

John glared at him as Sherlock gazed serenely up at the ceiling before closing his eyes again. John dug his phone out of his jacket pocket and held it out towards him.

"Here," John told him through gritted teeth.

Without opening his eyes, Sherlock held out his right hand with his palm facing up. John glowered at him for a moment before stepping forward and slapping the phone into his hand roughly. Sherlock slowly lifted his arm and put his hands together again, this time with the phone in between his palms. John turned and walked a few paces away before turning around again.

"So what's this about…the case?" John asked Sherlock

"Her case John, like we said back at the crime scene. Her case was missing," Vince answered him lazily as he got up from the chair and walked over to the chair and putting his coat.

"Her case?" John asked Vince confused of how he knew about the case.

He went and balanced himself on the arm of the couch near Sherlock's head. He opened one eye a crack and lazily looked up at him for a brief moment before closing his eyes again. He was so completely high on nicotine right now it was a wonder that he could still think. One look at the box earlier and he could determine that he was already using the highest dose available over the counter.

"Her suitcase, yes, obviously. The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake," Sherlock answered him opening his eyes and flickering them up to

"Okay, he took her case. So?"

"It's no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it," Sherlock muttered quietly to Vince.

He nodded understanding where his train of thought was going. As he was talking with John, Vince had put together the pieces of the puzzle. He had found the case, but the phone must not have been there.

"Oh it is very easy love" said a woman with pink clothes. "It's has something to do with my phone, it wasn't in my suitcase love"

"Oh no," he said glazing over her. "Now I'm starting to imagine Jennifer Wilson"

"What did she said?" Sherlock asked opening his eyes again.

"The woman phone number, it wasn't in the case, was it?" he said. "That meant you wanted John to text the woman's number because it was possible that the murderer had her missing mobile"

"Yes, sometimes your hallucination can become useful" Sherlock said going back on his mind place again.

He raised his voice a little as he imperiously held the phone out towards John who was still not looking at him. "On my desk there's a number. I want you to send a text."

John half-smiled at him in angry disbelief. "You brought me here … to send a text?" John asked Sherlock tightly.

"Text, yes. The number on my desk," Sherlock told him sounding oblivious to his anger.

He continued to hold the phone out while John glowered at him. It looked like he was possibly wondering if he could get away with justifiable homicide. Eventually he stomped across the room and snatched the phone from Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock refolded his hands under his chin and closed his eyes but instead of going to the table, John walked over to the window and looked out of it into the street below. Sherlock opened his eyes and tilted his head slightly towards him

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked John raising one eyebrow

"Just met a friend of yours, the both of yours apparently," John remarked as he continued to look out of the window, not doing a good job of hiding what he was doing.

Sherlock frowned in confusion as Vince cocked his head to the side and regarded him. "A friend?"

Sherlock asked John.

"An enemy," John elaborated and Sherlock immediately relaxed.

"Oh. Which one?" Sherlock asked him calmly.

"Your arch-enemy, according to him," John said as he turned towards Sherlock before turning and looking at me. "He said you would consider him the bane of your existence,"

John continued before looking back at Sherlock. "Do people have arch-enemies?"

Sherlock looked at him narrowing his eyes suspiciously as Vince tried to stifle a giggle. Of course Mycroft would bring that up; he could be so overly dramatic.

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?" Sherlock asked him still studying him trying to deduce his answer before he gave it.

"Yes, to spy on both of you actually," John remarked as he eyed the two of us curiously.

"Did you take it?" Vince asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," John told them

"Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time," Vince told him sounding completely unaffected by this revelation.

"Vince! He's your uncle Mycroft" Isabelle said sounding a little bit annoying while Vince just rolled his eyes.

"Who is he?" John asked them.

"The most dangerous man you've ever met, and not my problem right now," Sherlock answered him softly.

"He's your worst nightmare, but like Sherlock said not our problem right now. Besides, I have that little conundrum covered for the most part leaving us free to do what we need to," Vince told John before checking his phone.

"My number, text my number" the woman said, sounding really pushy making Vince annoyed.

"Can you just text the phone now?!" Vince asked. "It's getting a little bit annoying here"

"On my desk, the number," Sherlock answered me after a seconds pause

John gives Sherlock a dark look but he had already looked away again and was back in his prayer pose. He walked over to the desk and picked up a piece of paper that had been taken from a luggage label. He looked at the name on the paper for a long moment before looking up at me.

"Jennifer Wilson. That was … Hang on. Wasn't that the dead woman?"

"Yes. That's not important. Just enter the number," Sherlock snapped out.

John shook his head angrily as he got out his phone and started to type the number into it. He could now understand some of what Mycroft had told me about his brother. He did like to be dramatic, but so did Mycroft. The only difference between the two brothers was that Mycroft used charm to get his way while Sherlock was blunt. Vince actually preferred Sherlock's bluntness over Mycroft's false charm. Both of them were fun to annoy however.

"Are you doing it?" Sherlock asked John.

"Yes."

"Have you done it?" Sherlock snapped out again

"Ye… hang on!" John snapped back in frustration.

"Let me," Vince told John as he held my hand out for his phone.

He inhaled before letting out his held breath and handing it over to Vince, seeming to calm down slightly. He patted his back as he passed him and plopped down heavily into what he now considered to be his armchair. Vince finished typing the phone number off of the card before Sherlock spoke again.

"These words exactly, 'What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out.'" Sherlock dictated and he quickly wrote up the text

"'Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come.'"

"You blacked out?" John asked Sherlock frowning as he snapped his head away from me to look back at Sherlock again.

"What? No. No!" Sherlock told him as he flipped his legs around and stood up, taking the shortest route towards the kitchen which apparently involved walking over the coffee table beside the sofa rather than walking around it.

"Type and send it. Quickly," He snapped back as he walked into the kitchen. He came back into the room a second later carrying a small pink suitcase.

Walking over to the dining table, he lifted one of the dining chairs and flipped it around, setting it down in front of his armchair before putting the suitcase on it and sitting in his chair.

"Have you sent it?" He asked me still sounding demanding and snappish.

"What's the address?" Vince asked Sherlock innocently.

He could remember it just fine, he just wanted to piss him off a little bit more. It was rather fun to piss off his eccentric uncle.

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Hurry up!"

Sherlock snapped at Vince impatiently. He giggled at him which only caused him to snap his head up to glare at him.

"Oi, don't get your knickers in a twist! I sent it," he told Sherlock who huffed back in response

He unzipped the case and flipped open the lid revealing the contents. John covered up a laugh with a cough sounding slightly more convincing this time. Good, he was improving. Vince looked up at him and smiled at him cheekily before handing him back his phone. Upon inspection of the case, he noticed that there were only a few items of clothing and underwear all in varying horrific shades of pink, a wash bag, and a paperback novel by Paul Bunch entitled "Come to Bed Eyes" in the bag. John turned towards the case and Vince caught his eyes widen slightly in shock as he realized what he was looking at.

"It's rather a good book" Vince said to the victim.

"Oh, yes, it is indeed" she said smiling over him.

"That's … that's the pink lady's case. That's Jennifer Wilson's case," John said sounding bemused

"Yes, obviously," Sherlock answered him as he studied the case closely.

John continued to stare at him before looking back at Vince. Sherlock broke his intense stare with the case to look up at him and then rolled his eyes.

"Oh, perhaps I should mention, I didn't kill her," Sherlock told him sarcastically.

"I never said you did," John told him as he looked at him with an expression of exasperation.

"Why not? Given the text I just had you two send and the fact I that have her case, it's a perfectly logical assumption," Sherlock continued

"Do people usually assume you're the murderer?" John asked

"Now and then, yes," Sherlock told him with a large smirk on his face.

"Sometimes yes. After all Sherlock and I can tell you exactly how the murderer killed the victim. It is slightly suspicious," Vince told John truthfully.

"Okay. How did you get this?" John asked the two of them as he shifted in his chair. "And how the bloody hell, you knew about the case"

"By looking," Sherlock told him simply. "And I sent him a text also the picture about the crime scene, every detail of them"

John looked at Vince expectantly, obviously hoping for a better explanation, preferably one with more details.

"He always gave me a challenge if I didn't come to the crime scene of course," he told John.

"Where?" John asked Sherlock who sighed in exasperation.

"The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention…particularly a man, which is statistically more likely… so obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took me less than an hour to find the right skips," Sherlock told them

"So that's the smell? I'm actually glad I was needed somewhere else right now. I'll leave the dumpster diving to you," Vince told Sherlock as he got up from the chair now.

He straightened up a little in his chair, aware of our suddenly close contact.

"Pink. You got all that because you realized the case would be pink?" John asked us suddenly as Sherlock sent Vince a glare for my comment about the way he smelt.

"It obviously had to be pink. She seemed rather fond of the color as you can see from the clothes in her case, also what she was wearing at the crime scene," Vince told John as he grimaced

"Why didn't I think of that?" John asked himself as he sighed and looked up at me.

"Because you're an idiot," Sherlock told him.

John looked across to him startled by his insult at his intelligence. Vince frowned at Sherlock. John was actually quiet brilliant. Sherlock made a placatory gesture with one hand.

"No, no, no, don't looks like that. Practically everyone is," Sherlock said as he refolded his hands and then extended his index fingers to point at the case.

"Now, look. Do you see what's missing? Either of you?"

"From the case? How could I?" John asked him.

"My bloody phone, oh it's missing," Jennifer the victim saying dramatically. "Now how was I suppose to call my other man without my phone?"

"You worry about your phone, when now you're already dead and we're trying to find the killer" Vince said.

"I'm sorry" John said looking at Vince.

"Her phone is missing. There was no phone on the body and there's no phone in the case. We know she had one because we just texted her number. So where is it?" he asked the both of them.

Sherlock nodded at his spot on observation.

"Maybe she left it at home," John offered up.

Sherlock put his hands onto the arms of the chair and raised himself up so that he could sit down on the chair properly again.

"She has a string of lovers and she's careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home," Sherlock told him as he put the slip of paper back into the luggage label on the case before looking up at John expectantly.

"Er…" John said as he looked down at his mobile which he had put on the arm of his chair. "Why did Vince and I just send that text?" John finally asked Sherlock.

"Well, the question is as Vince already asked where is her phone now?" Sherlock asked John.

"She could have lost it," John said sounding unsure of himself.

"Yes or…?" Vince asked John urging him to continue.

"The murderer…," John said slowly as he watched them closely. "You think the murderer has the phone?"

"Correct Watson!" Vince cheered as he nudged him in his good shoulder.

He looked up at him smiling slightly at his enthusiasm.

"Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone," Sherlock said as he rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, what are we doing? Did we just text a murderer?! What good will those do?" John asked us as right on cue his phone started ringing.

"Just in time" Vince said looking at Sherlock.

He picked it up and looked at the screen for the Caller I.D. The screen read withheld calling. John cleared his throat before he looked across to Sherlock as the phone continued to ring.

"A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just found that phone they'd ignore a text like that, but the murderer…" Sherlock said as he paused dramatically for a moment until the phone stopped ringing.

"But the murderer would panic," Vince finished for him with a grin as he flipped the lid of the suitcase close and stood up at the same time

He walked across the room to pick up his jacket as John continued to stare down at his phone. Sherlock put his suit jacket back on before he walked towards the door. .

"Have you talked to the police?" John asked them as he finally looked up at the both of us.

"Four people are dead. There isn't time to talk to the police," Sherlock told him as he walked to the door

He was right however; there wasn't time to talk to the police. The murderer would strike again and soon. We needed to solve the case before they killed again.

"I'm sure Lestrade would appreciate it, but you're right, there's not a lot of time right now," he told Sherlock who smirked at him.

"So why are you talking to me?" John asked them as Sherlock reached behind the door and took his greatcoat from the hook

He looked across the room towards John and suddenly frowned. Vince looked to where his line of sight fell and noticed that something was missing from the mantelpiece.

"Mrs. Hudson took my skull," Sherlock whined

"So I'm basically filling in for your skull?" John asked him as Sherlock pulled his coat on.

"Relax, you're doing fine," Sherlock told him as he reached behind the door

John continued to sit in his chair just staring at us.

"Well?" Sherlock asked him as he held my coat out for me to slip into.

"Well what?" John asked us sounding confused.

"Well, you could just sit there and watch the telly," Vince pointed out as he slid his arms into his blue coat and let Sherlock help him put it on.

"What, you want me to come with you two?" John asked us sounding generally surprised.

"Vince hasn't eat anything yet. I like company when I go out, and I think better when I talk aloud. The skull just attracts attention, so …," Sherlock said and John smiled briefly.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked him as he pulled his scarf off of the hook.

"Yeah, Sergeant Donovan," John told us.

"What about her?" Sherlock asked John as he looked away in exasperation.

"She said … You both get off on this. You enjoy it," John said

"And I said "dangerous", and here you are," Sherlock said nonchalantly as he turned and gestured for Vince to go ahead of him.

He walked out of the door with Sherlock behind me and we started down the stairs with smirks on our faces. It was freezing and Vince started to flinch of the cold.

"Wow, it's really cold" Vince said.

"I told you so," Isabelle said looking at him. "You better put your scarf on or maybe a bigger coat"

"Nah," he said. "I won't be like Sherlock's and it would only slowing me down, also i don't even think me wearing a bigger coat is a great idea!"

Suddenly Sherlock was coming back inside briefly and had a scarf, Vince looked at him, it was sometimes nice that Sherlock had a double personality, the eccentric arrogant one that people wanted to punch in the face if they could and also his soft side for Vince, which he played a fatherly and motherly figured on him. He put the scarf in Vince necked which kind of surprised John a little bit.

"What's that for?" Vince asked as he frown at him. "It's not that cold"

"Yes, of course I can see from the way you shiver when we arrived outside and also from your cold hand" Sherlock said as he ruffle his hair.

"H-Hey!"

"Damn it!"

They heard John said behind them as they reached the door and walked out onto the street together. Sherlock pulled out a pair of leather gloves out of his coat pockets. It didn't take long for John to catch up to the both of them and fall into step beside them.

"Where are we going?" John asked them

Vince noted that he was leaning heavily on his cane again. He looked at Sherlock and pointed it out with his eyes. He nodded back to him in response letting him know he had seen it too.

"Northumberland Street's a five-minute walk from here," Sherlock answered him

"You think he's stupid enough to go there?" John asked them

"No, we think he's brilliant enough," Vince told John before Sherlock cut him off smiling expectantly.

"I love the brilliant ones. They're always so desperate to get caught," He said enthusiastically and Vince smiled sharing his excitement over the case.

"Why?" John asked us sounding confused.

"Appreciation! Applause! At long last the spotlight. That's the frailty of genius, John, it needs an audience," Vince remarked.

"Yeah," John said looking at him pointedly

"This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything," Sherlock told them

"All of his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go. Bit strange if you ask me. You'd expect someone to make a scene if they were being abducted in order to get someone to notice yet no one, not one person, saw anything out of the ordinary," Vince said thoughtfully as Sherlock suddenly held his hands up on either side of his head as if he was trying to focus his thoughts.

"Think! Who do we trust, even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?" Sherlock asked as he paused and suddenly grabbed Vince shoulders looking right in his eyes.

"Dunno. Who?" John asked as he stopped beside us.

"Haven't the faintest," Sherlock said nonchalantly as he released my shoulders and shrugged.

Four impossible suicides and a murderer who seemed to be invisible. Then, there was Dr. Watson. He interested them in many ways. An army doctor who missed the danger of the battle fields. It had been a long time since Vince had worked on a case. Nearly, four years. He had quit just after the last case he had worked on that had nearly cost me his life which Sherlock and Mycroft noted not to took me on any case again. It was time he got back to work though. He smiled at Sherlock knowingly as they entered the restaurant. The night was still young and there was a killer loose on the streets of London. This was already shaping up to be an interesting day and made for a very promising evening. To quote Sherlock, there was no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on.

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Study in Pink

V

As they entered the restaurant, the waiter near the door clearly seemed to recognize Sherlock and Vince immediately ran towards them, being altogether too eager to be helpful in the opinion. He gestured to a table at the front window, offering it to them.

"Thank you, Billy," Sherlock told the waiter offhandedly as he took his coat off and sat down on the side of the table not facing the window.

He immediately turned sideways so that he could clearly see out of the window, ignoring them as he was lost in his detective mode. It was like one of those bad cop movies where the police held a stake out. The only difference was that instead of sitting in a police cruiser with coffee and donuts, we were sitting in an Italian restaurant.

John sat down in a chair across from Sherlock, facing the window, after he draped his coat over the back of his chair. It had been a while since they had last dined here.

"Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it," Sherlock told them as he nodded at the building across the street.

He kept his eyes trained on it as Vince snuck a peek across the road. It would look suspicious if we all looked at it at once. One person looking at something was not suspicious. Two people got to be more so as you could observe that there was more than just a passing interest in what you were looking at. Three people looking at something, well you might as well have a big sign on you that pointed out that you were deliberately looking for something.

"He isn't just gonna ring the doorbell, though, is he? He'd need to be mad," John remarked sounding skeptical.

He had already made one mistake by failing to see the woman's case. It stood to reason that that he might make an equally bad error by actually showing up where we wanted him to.

"He has killed four people John. I think you could rationally call him mad at this point," Vince pointed out.

Vince quirked an eyebrow at John who was staring at him funnily. They had a tense staring contest for a few long seconds before he looked away. He smirked in triumph as John shook his head at Vince in exasperation. Yeah, Vince had that effect on people. Mycroft was right; he always did make a lasting impression upon people.

"… Okay," John said as the owner of the restaurant came over to our table.

Angelo, the owner of the restaurant was an old acquaintance of them and they considered him a friend.

"Sherlock," Angelo said as both men shook hands.

It was then that Angelo swept his eyes over the table, looking at who Sherlock's companions were. Well that supported my theory that he normally went everywhere alone. When Angelo finally saw me he let out a cry of delight that seemed to startled John and Sherlock.

"Vincentte! Vince, you're here also," Angelo said as he got up from his seat and gave the man a hug.

He laughed as Angelo pulled back from our hug and held onto my shoulders as he looked him over.

"Why have you not come in so long?" Angelo asked him sounding slightly put out. "And you're also losing some weight; it's not good for a growing boy like you"

"I'm sorry il mio amico, (my friend) I've been keeping myself busy lately. I haven't found a moment to get away," he apologized and the man beamed at him use of his native language.

"Ah, but back to solving cases I see. You have that look in your eyes again" Angelo said.

He laughed, knowing Angelo was right. He did feel better, happier, than he had in a long time. There was just this feeling he got when working on a case, a sort of excitement, a high of adrenalin. He didn't

"It is good to see you again Vince, you must come more often and bring that friend of yours along especially the last girl you took. Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free," Angelo told us in a hushed voice, raising his finger to his lips in a secretive gesture before he laid a couple of menus out on the table.

"On the house, for you two and for your date, I make it for you myself," Angelo continued in a conspiratorial whisper as he looked between John and Sherlock.

Vince giggled as John turned red. He loved how everyone was just assuming that John and Sherlock were together. Then again, Angelo was of the impression that Cassandra was his girlfriend ever since he took her here when they met for lunch.

"Do you want to eat?" Sherlock asked them.

Vince nodded to him in response. He couldn't remember exactly when it was he had last eaten. He had tea before he left his flat this morning, but after that he had finished up some worked and had not time for lunch and then had gone to meet up with Sherlock and John at the flat. After that it had been running around for hours for the case. It was one of those days again. It wasn't that he didn't eat, he did. He just forgot…a lot and usually it took Isabelle to reminded him. When he got invested in doing something, hours could pass before he finally realized the time. It used to be worse when he was working cases and Isabelle won't even stop fussing about it and keep screaming on his head. Mycroft would kidnap him for dinner every so often, if anything just to make sure he ate at least once a week.

"I'm not his date," John told Angelo through slightly clenched teeth.

"This man got me off a murder charge," Angelo told John as he leaned down holding Sherlock's shoulders.

John was surprised to see Sherlock smirk slightly instead of shaking the man off. Doesn't mind contact from people he knows and likes, he added to the mental list he was compiling.

"This is Angelo," Sherlock introduced as Angelo offered his hand out to John.

John shook his hand, but he could tell he was still slightly irritated by being called Sherlock's date. "Three years ago I successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking."

"He cleared my name," Angelo pointed out

"I cleared it a bit. Anything happening opposite?" Sherlock asked Angelo who shook his head as he briefly glanced across the street.

"Nothing," Angelo answered him as he looked at John again before continuing. "But for this man, I'd have gone to prison."

"You did go to prison," Sherlock pointed out.

It was quiet across the street, for now at least. He had a feeling that things weren't going to stay quiet for too long. The murderer was bound to show up. Suddenly you get a text from someone that has to be your victim. Naturally, your first instinct would be to panic. You would want to stake out the meet up point, see if it was a police trick or really that the person you tried to kill was actually still alive. Lestrade was being smart by not letting out that they had found another body yet.

"I'll get a candle for the table. It's more romantic," Angelo said to John. "And I'll bring you a glass of that Sangria you like."

"Cheers!" Vince told him with a grin as he picked up the menu and started reading it over quickly.

He gazed over the top of the menu and Sherlock and John, catching Sherlock's eye. They stared back at each other for a few long seconds before he looked away back out the window.

"I'm not his date!" John called tetchily as Angelo walked away.

Sherlock put the menu he had been looking over down on the table. So, he wasn't going to be eating. That wasn't going to stop Vince, he loved Angelo's food. It's the only food he's going to eat, the exception of the food from the café, the Chinese takeout from the streets and Mrs. Hudson cooking.

"You may as well eat. We might have a long wait," Sherlock told John and me as he turned and glanced out of the window again.

His eyes flickering from person to person as he deduced each in turn. He was used to being right, being the smartest person in the room. Well, this would turn out to be interesting. Vince had a feeling that living with Sherlock and John would be, for lack of a better word, interesting. Beyond the fact that he would be living with two men, he was living with an ex-army doctor and a consulting detective. At least life wouldn't be boring. Of course just because Sherlock consulted for the police did not mean that he was suddenly going to start working cases again. This was a onetime thing, he told myself firmly. He was just doing a favor for Sherlock and once this case was over he was going to stay out of the cases Sherlock worked.

"So, are you going to eat?" John asked them

Vince glanced down at mine deciding on something at random. Everything was good here and his brain was going here, there, and everywhere.

"What day is it?" Sherlock asked John without bothering to turn around.

"It's Wednesday," John answered him in confusion

"I'm okay for a bit," Sherlock answered him disinterestedly as if he barely even thought about it.

"You haven't eaten today?" John asked him and Sherlock made a sound of agreement.

"For God's sake, you need to eat!" John protested

"No, you need to eat. I need to think. The brain's what counts. Everything else is transport," Sherlock shot back eyes. "Besides, I only going here for the stake out and to take Vince here and you to eat"

John frowned at him as Angelo came back with a small glass bowl with a lit tea-light candle in it. He put it onto the center of the table before placing a glass of the house made Sangria down in front of them. He gave John a thumbs up and sent Vince a smile before he walked away, leaving us to their awkward not really a conversation again.

"Thanks!" John shot a little grumpily at Angelo's retreating form.

Vince giggled and John looked back at him staring icily.

"You know if I had known you two were on a date I would have invited a friend of mine," he said giggling again as John's glare grew steadily icier.

Sherlock however was smirking beside him seemingly unfazed by the implications people keep making about him and John. He knew that he didn't actually care; he was like Mycroft in that regard.

"I'm just teasing you John," he told John to pacify him.

Angelo came back over to our table with a grin on his face, ready to take their order personally. John and Vince ordered something to eat, but Sherlock didn't order anything, no surprise there.

He was quietly drumming his fingers on the table which was beginning to get annoying. Vince grabbed his hand and he looked back at him, his eyes wide for just a second before he regained his composure.

"Stop, you're driving me insane," he told him as he let go of his hand and picked my fork up again.

"Not far of a drive then," Sherlock commented as he turned back to the window and resumed drumming his fingers on the table, probably just to annoy him.

"I'm not kidding, dear uncle, it's annoying and disturbing!"Vince said as he pulling his impression of Mycroft. "Keep it up and I will stab you with my fork," he warned him as he pointed at him threateningly with his fork.

He looked back at him over his shoulder and only shrugged. Vince narrowed his eyes at him and leaned in slightly closer, starting a staring contest with him.

"People don't have arch-enemies," John suddenly cut in as he took a bite of his chicken parmesan.

It took a long moment before Sherlock finally looked away from Vince and at him. He stared at Sherlock for a second longer before he sat back in his chair and violently stabbed one of his raviolis, popping it in his mouth and chewing it. Sherlock and John looked back at him and he only looked down at Sherlock's hand since he was still drumming his fingers on the table. He sighed as if the act of stopping was physically challenging.

"I'm sorry?" Sherlock asked him

"In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn't happen," John said as he looked across the table at me and raised an eyebrow. I

"Doesn't it? Sounds a bit dull," Sherlock said disinterestedly as he looked out of the window again.

"So who did I meet?" John asked us.

"What do real people have, then, in their 'real lives'?" Sherlock asked John sounding slightly condescending as he completely ignored John's question.

"Friends; people they know; people they like; people they don't like … Girlfriends, boyfriends…" John said before Sherlock cut him off.

"Yes, well, as I was saying…dull," Sherlock said

"So…do you have a girlfriend who feeds you up sometimes?" John asked him curiously as he looked down at his plate before up at Sherlock who was looking back at him exasperatedly.

"Is that what girlfriends do, feed you up?" Sherlock scoffed with irritation before he glanced out of the window again.

"You don't have a girlfriend, then?" John asked him.

"Girlfriend? No, not really my area," Sherlock said as he continued to look out of the window.

"Mm," John hummed in agreement.

"Oh, right. D'you have a boyfriend?" John asked him.

"Which is fine, by the way," John added

"I know its fine," Sherlock told him quickly looking slightly uncomfortable with where this conversation was headed.

"So you've got a boyfriend then?" John asked him again

"No."

"What about you then Vince?" John asked suddenly turning the conversation around to him, "Do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend maybe? 'Cos that's all fine you know," John continued as he picked up his drink again.

"Not my division," he answered him with a grin

"Right. Okay," John said still smiling, though his smile seemed to become a little fixed and awkward.

"You're unattached. Like me," John said as he looked down at his plate.

He seemed to be rapidly running out of things to say. "Fine,"

He continued as he cleared his throat. "Good," He finished before he continued eating. Sherlock and Vince looked at each other before we both looked at John suspiciously for a moment. Sherlock turned his attention out of the window again for a long moment before he looked back at him looking a little startled.

"John, um … I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm really not looking for any…," Sherlock said turning his head towards John again. He spoke rather awkwardly but rapidly speed up until he was almost babbling by the time John interrupted him.

"No," John said as he interrupted him quickly. He turned his head briefly to clear his throat. "No, I'm not asking. No," He finished as he fixed his gaze onto Sherlock's, apparently trying to convey the sincerity of his words.

"I'm just saying, it's all fine," John told him and Sherlock looked at him for a moment before nodding.

"Good. Thank you," Sherlock told him before he turned his attention back to the street.

"Look across the street. Taxi," said Sherlock.

John twisted in his seat to look out of the window where there was a taxi parked at the side of the road with its back end towards the restaurant.

"Stopped. Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out," Sherlock continued

"Why a taxi?" He asked me before he scrunched his face up in thought.

"Oh, that's clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?" Sherlock said to himself

"That's him?" John asked us as he continued to stare at the taxi.

"Don't stare, you're going to draw too much attention to us," Vince hissed at John in a whisper as he used my glass to reflect what was going on across the street

"You're staring," John pointed out as he rubbed his leg.

"We can't all stare and besides, I'm watching through a reflection in my glass," he told John as Sherlock suddenly got to his feet grabbing his coat and scarf as he headed for the door.

Vince was up a second after him, pulling his jacket on as he walked. Thinking of this like a game of chess, our opponent had already made their move and now it was our turn. John picked up his own jacket and followed out after us hurriedly. Vince noted that he forgot to take his walking cane with him. He nodded at Sherlock as he shrugged himself into his coat while he kept his eyes fixed on the taxi. He looked across the street where the passenger continued to look around him before he turned and looked out the back window of the cab. His gaze fell on the restaurant and then on us and he stared back for a few moments while Sherlock and him just stared back at him.

This was like the strangest Mexican standoff he had ever seen before. He could already hear the music in his head. Suddenly the man turned towards the front of the vehicle and the taxi began to pull away from the curb. Sherlock immediately headed towards the cab without bothering to check the road that he was running out into. It was no surprise that he was almost run over by a car coming from his left. The driver slammed on the brakes and stopped the car in time but Sherlock, always keen to take the quickest route as it seemed, allowed his forward impetus to carry him onto the top of the bonnet. He rolled over the bonnet, landing on his feet on the other side and then ran after the taxi. Vince carried off after him taking the same path he had over the bonnet.

He giggled as he vaulted off of the hood and broke into a run after Sherlock. He was glad he was wearing his doctor who converse. The driver of the car angrily sounded his horn as John put one hand on the bonnet and vaulted over the front of the car after him as he followed us. He apologized to the driver as he went. Vince laughed loudly at the fact that he was worried about apologize at a time like this.

"Sorry," John shouted behind them as he chased after Sherlock.

Vince was the first to catch up with him as he had only run a few yards up the road before he realized, like he had, that we were never going to catch the taxi. They both slowed to a halt which gave John the time to catch up with us. He stopped beside us sounding slightly breathless.

"I've got the cab number," John told us sounding proud of himself.

"Good for you," Sherlock quipped as he brought his hands up to either side of his head.

It was possible that they could still catch the taxi if they were smart. Vince took out his phone and unlocked it before opening an app he had gotten from Mycroft. Well actually he had lifted it off of him or more correctly off of Anthea. From one app he could not only control all of the traffic lights, but if needed he could also hack into cameras or truly anything that Mycroft had the power to control. The best part was the map that came with it with the current traffic situations. As long as he was careful and didn't use it too much, Mycroft would never find out that he had something he shouldn't. He brought up the surrounding street maps along with all the information on traffic lights, current traffic conditions, bus lanes, road work that was going on, and best of all a link to all the CCTVs in the surrounding area. He quickly calculated the path the taxi was most likely to take.

"Right turn, one way, road works, traffic lights, bus lane, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights," Sherlock said in rapid succession.

He lifted his head and he caught his line of sight as he looked at a man who was unlocking a door to a nearby building. Sherlock looked back at Vince for a brief moment and they shared a look of understanding before they both raced towards the man. Sherlock grabbed him and shoved him out of the way before charging into the building with Vince falling into step just behind him.

"Oi!" The man shouted as Sherlock and Vince raced past him.

John hurried after the both of us raising an apologetic hand to the man as he went.

"Sorry," he called over his shoulder as Sherlock and Vince raced up the stairs and out onto a metal spiral fire escape staircase which lead to the roof.

Sherlock and Vince took the steps two and even three at a time. Vince looked back to see that John was struggling to keep up with them. Sherlock seemed to notice the same thing he had.

"Come on, John," He called back urgently as we reached the top of the stairs.

Sherlock and him ran to the edge and looked over before we spotted a shorter metal spiral staircase that lead down the side of the building to another door one floor lower. Sherlock quickly descended the stairs and climbed onto the railing before leaping across the gap to the next building. He kept moving and made the jump following closely behind Sherlock. He steadied me on the other side before we ran to the other side of the roof. The next jump looked a lot wider than the first. Sherlock and Vince shared a look and then he grabbed his hand in his own. He was slightly surprised by the gesture, but it was not unwelcomed.

"Wow, too high!" Vince said looking down.

"Come on!" Sherlock called him. "You won't fall I promised"

"When the last time was you promised me that and I ended up at the hospital?" he said sarcastically.

"If you fall, it's only take some broken ribs, ankle, probably some broken arm and maybe staying in the hospital for a week or two" said one of his hallucinations, the guy from the morgue.

"Thank you Mr. Spock, that's really helping" he said.

"Come on, I'll catch you, trust me" said Sherlock.

They looked forward across the gap and he took a deep breath before jumping with Sherlock across the gap. They were airborne for a good while before his feet landed on the other side. He let out a delighted laugh and whooped as he looked back across the gap. He watched as John come skidding to a halt as he seemed to realize that the gap might be too wide for him to jump given his "bad' leg. He watched as he hesitated and looked down at the drop beneath him. They had to keep moving or they were going to lose the taxi. John needed to make this jump though, not only if he wanted to follow them, but because he needed to make this jump to overcome his thoughts that he couldn't because of his leg. They knew he could make the jump. He had been in the army. He was physically fit and could make this jump if he finally stopped thinking that he couldn't because of his leg.

"Come on, John. We're losing him!" Sherlock called across to John as he looked between John and the roof tops.

He knew he was considering leaving him behind so he wouldn't lose the taxi

"He can do this, he needs to do this," Vince told Sherlock quietly. He nodded in response and he looked across to John. "Come on John!"

He looked away from the fall and up at me before he backed up a few paces and braced himself. He took a run up before leaping across the gap. He stumbled a little on the other side and Vince steadied him before taking his hand and letting go of Sherlock's. Sherlock dropped down onto a walkway along the side of the building and John followed him, but Vince paused. It was a little higher than he expected it to be. John looked back up at me with a smile and he growled a little under his breath.

"Oh shut up," Vince called down to him. His smile grew steadily smugger.

"Remember, if you fall, there's a chance off-" his hallucinations said with annoying tone before got cut off by Vince.

"Broken, rib, possibly coma, broken leg and of course if I wasn't very lucky a broken neck and possibly deadly" he rolled his eyes. "You're smart Mr. Spock, now shut up!"

"I didn't say anything" John said with a confuse looked.

"No not…Oh forget it" he said preparing to jump.

Vince dropped down onto the walkway and John caught him by the waist and steadied him as he stumbled.

"I told you, didn't say anything," He said still smiling smugly.

He wasn't afraid of heights; this wasn't his first time jumping around the rooftops of London. He did however have a bad experience jumping off of what he thought was only a short drop once which ended with me spraining his ankle badly. He narrowed his eyes at John as he ran past him and caught back up with Sherlock. Vince heard John chuckle behind them as he started following after them again. Sherlock shot him an amused look as he ran beside him. They exited the alleyway onto D'Arblay Street, which the taxi was just turning into.

"Ah, no!" Sherlock shouted angrily as we raced out of the end of the alley and turned right.

"This way," Vince said as they continued on.

They looked back over their shoulders only to see that John had instinctively turned left in pursuit of the taxi.

"No, this way!" Sherlock called back to John again.

"Sorry," John apologized as he turned and headed back in the opposite direction following us again.

Vince checked his phone as he ran after Sherlock and traced the most likely route that the taxi would take. He chose a new point where we could intercept the cab. He showed his phone to Sherlock who nodded in response agreeing with his choice. They ran down the shorter route, heading down more alleyways and side streets towards the interception point in the middle of Wardour Street. Sherlock and Vince raced out of a side street and they hurled themselves right into the path of the approaching taxi. It screeched to a halt as Sherlock crashed hard into the bonnet.

Vince winced before skidding to a stop just behind him. That had to have hurt, at least a little bit. Sherlock scrabbled in his left coat pocket as he made his way around the bonnet. He pulled out an I.D. badge which he flashed at the driver.

"Police! Open her up!" Sherlock demanded as we panted heavily.

He tugged open the rear door and stared in at the passenger, who looked back at him anxiously. Instantly Sherlock straightened up in exasperation just as John joined us. Vince saw the reason behind his exasperation, this was not our murderer.

"No," He said as he leaned down again and did a once over the passenger for a second time.

"Teeth, tan, what?" He asked me as he turned back briefly to look at Vince to make it clear that he was directing this question towards me.

"Californian?" he supplied as he read the luggage tags on the bag at the passengers feet. "Yup… California. Los Angeles. Santa Monica to be precise. He just arrived," he finished as he straightened up beside Sherlock.

He nodded at me also straightening with a grimace on his face.

"How can you possibly know that?" John asked

"The luggage," Sherlock answered him as he looked down at the suitcase on the floor of the cab, showing it to John.

Its luggage label showed that the man had flown from the Los Angeles International Airport to the London Heathrow Airport.

"It's probably your first trip to London, right; going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?" Sherlock said to the passenger who looked rather confused, but still slightly nervous.

"Sorry…are you guys the police?" The passenger asked

"Yeah," he answered him "Everything all right?"

"Yeah," The passenger said.

"Welcome to London," Sherlock said before the both of us immediately walked away, leaving John staring blankly for a moment before he stepped closer to the taxi door and looked in at the passenger.

"Er, any problems, just let us know," He told the passenger. The man nodded and John smiled at him politely before slamming the cab door shut.

John walked back to where Sherlock and Vince had stopped a few yard behind the vehicle to wait for him.

"Basically just a cab that happened to slow down," John said as he rejoined us.

"Basically," Vince told John with a laugh as he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets.

It was getting steadily colder out, the great news was the scarf that Sherlock gave him started to worked warming him off after the run he took. It was getting later and later and we still hadn't found a lead yet. He knew that Sherlock would work through the night. That was completely fine with him. His insomnia had been extremely bad lately and when he had used to work cases he normally wouldn't stop for rest until he had solved them.

"Not the murderer," John said and Vince nodded at him as he shivered.

A nice cup of tea and curling up in the chair in front of the fire sounded really good right now. And of course getting a lot of speech from Isabelle would be very great indeed.

"Not the murderer, no," Sherlock told him sounding exasperated.

"Wrong country, good alibi," John continued seemingly not noticing that he should quit while he was ahead.

"As they go," Sherlock said as he switched his I.D. card from one hand to the other.

"Hey, where…where did you get these? Here," He demanded as he reached for his cards.

Sherlock released his without putting up a fight,

"Right," John said as he read the names on the cards. "Detective Inspector Lestrade and Sergeant Donovan?"

"Yeah. I pickpocket him when he's annoying. You can keep that one; I've got plenty at the flat,"

"Indeed, usually he would complain to us back at flat of course" Vince said catching his breath.

Sherlock told him seeming nonchalant as he looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" Sherlock asked him

"Nothing, just: "Welcome to London"," John told us.

Sherlock and Vince laughed together. They looked down the road when they heard a noise to find that a police officer had apparently gone to investigate why three people stopped the cab in the middle of the road. The passenger was out of the car and was pointing down the road towards the three of them. That was are cue to hightail in out of there.

"Got your breath back?" Sherlock asked John as they looked back at the army man.

The both of them were smiling knowingly. John had forgotten his cane back in Angelo's in his haste to rush after them. Someone didn't have a limp now; in fact he was walking perfectly.

"Ready when you are," John told us.

"Vince?" Sherlock asked looking at him for a brief. He was indeed already cold, he even made a note to asked Mrs. Hudson to made him some hot chocolate and made him sleep early or he'll get a cold tomorrow.

"Yup!" he said as they started running.

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